


Acceptable Loss

by skybound2



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mass Effect Kink Meme, Please read the author's notes before proceeding, Romance, multiple character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skybound2/pseuds/skybound2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In war - soldiers die. But when it's someone you love...well, that's a different story altogether.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers**: Through end game.  
> **Author's Note:** Author's Note: Ahhh, mass kinkmeme, where would I be without you? This piece certainly never would have happened, that's for sure! As you might expect, this was written in response to a prompt over at the kinkmeme that requested the following: A Shep that has romanced Kaidan (and possibly lost him on Virmire), and then romanced Thane, only to have him die post-Collector's base. Enter A Garrus BFF who has been secretly in love with our Commander this whole time. Cue comfort sex with bonus' for guilt, pity, and a happy ending. Well - I think I got it all! I'm currently working on revising this whole thing, so the version you guys see here will be much cleaner and more coherent than what was posted there. And looking to be longer as well. 'Cause I can't shut up. Hopefully that's not a bad thing ;-P  
> **Warnings:** In case you couldn't tell, this piece contains character deaths (both referenced and directly). I do my best to be respectful of that. As such, this fic does NOT just gloss over the impact Thane's (and Kaidan's) death has on Shepard. There are parts of this story that are, accordingly, a bit dark. There are aspects of how Shepard deals with grief, guilt, and healing in the wake of a loved one's death.

Shepard's not a stranger to losing people. People enter your life one day, and can be shipped out just as easily the next. She'd known that her whole life. Hell, it'd been impossible not to, being shifted from ship to ship with her mother's tour of duty as she'd done her whole childhood.

Then, of course, there was the more permanent reassignment that occurred when a friend or colleague took a stray shot. Or a well aimed one. Death in the line of duty was always on the periphery when you joined with the Alliance. Ugly. Harsh. But expected.

Losses such as these were familiar to Shepard. They were logical. _Acceptable_. If not always easy to deal with. But she figured if that was the price you paid for caring for people, then so be it.

The first time that her belief in the acceptability of loss had been challenged had occurred on Virmire. Kaidan Alenko. Kind, intelligent Kaidan. With tentative sweetness, and a smile that made her toes curl and her palms sweat. He'd reminded her of simpler times, even when the whole universe seemed to be on the fast-track to hell all around them.

By the time they'd landed on that tropical paradise, the tension between them had brewed to near-boiling. She knew that if they'd been given more time, just a minuscule amount in the grand scheme of things, that tension - that _heat_ \- would have lead to a cataclysmic explosion the likes of which had never before been seen.

She'd imagined it almost nightly in her dreams after his death.

Sometimes it was frantic. Rough. Tearing at one another's clothing to get to the skin beneath. Leaving harsh welts shaped like teeth and nails as evidence to their passion across the canvas of each other's skin.

Often, it was soft. Sweet. Long lingering caresses. Those dark-bedroom eyes staring at hers with such intensity, that she'd have to blink them away, lest she'd burst. The slick feel of his skin rubbing against hers, the heavy pads of his fingertips ghosting between her thighs. A slow simmer that would leave her breathless for hours after she awoke.

And she always woke. And they were forever only dreams.

In the days following Virmire, Shepard had walked in a daze. The ship hurdled ever faster on the path to Saren, but she was numb. Frozen. Her mind still on that god-forsaken planet, with the echo of an impossible choice ringing in her ear.

She hadn't known how to deal with a loss that she was the perpetrator of back then. Not really. The Alliance hailed her as a hero after Elysium, but it had really just been dumb luck. Dumb luck that her team had survived, and she'd gotten to walk away unscathed. It hadn't prepared her for the reality of soldiers - _friends_ \- dying under her command.

It was a harsh lesson to learn.

It had been Garrus, that damn idealistic turian, that had brought her out of the mental tailspin she'd been in. Shown up at her door when they were en route to Ilos, an awful elcor-hanar vid in hand (the memory of which she had blocked out almost entirely, thankyouverymuch), a bar of carob ("I know it's not that chocolate stuff that you're always going on about Commander, but Williams swore this was a decent substitute. And hell, its gotta be better than most of the slop that we eat, right?"), and an absolutely will-not-take-no-for-an-answer attitude in place.

It was the first time she'd laughed in ages. And all it had taken was an observant friend, some not-quite-chocolate, and a video of a surf-board riding elcor (okay, so maybe she **hadn't** blocked it out entirely – it had its moments after all) to make it happen.

He'd returned time and time again to her room, and they would make a night of it. Watching awful vids - sometimes at his suggestion, sometimes hers. Talking about nothing at all - just filling up the space between them with as many words as they could manage - until one or both of them would fall asleep sitting in uncomfortable positions in desk chairs, or on the floor. Once or twice she had awoken to find her head pillowed on his thigh, his talons carting through the mess of her hair. Offering her comfort the only way that he could while she slept.

He'd become a dear friend to her by the end of that mission.

The dreams of Kaidan didn't stop of course. Garrus' friendly insertion into her solitude had done wonders, but it hadn't worked miracles. But after that, when the dream's came, she mostly woke with a smile, rather than nausea.

It'd been a hell of an improvement.

~~~\/~~~

The months that followed had been a whirlwind. And while there were losses (choosing to save the council had been difficult, but she was certain it had been the right call), she was able to file them all under acceptable. Expected. Honorable.

Then she'd died.

Surprisingly, she felt very little one way or another about that particular death. If nothing else, her time chasing Saren had taught her that there were worse things in the universe than being spaced.

~~~\/~~~

She'd been killed, resurrected, and sent off after the collectors in only a heart's beat of time. Never mind the missing two years in between. It had all happened so fast that she had been able to do little else but accept it, and soldier on.

Like the consummate soldier that she was, she did it with a success rate of 100%.

Her team had been powerful. Prepared. Loyal. And most importantly – effective. She'd spent countless hours with every member of her squad. Learning about them – their histories, their motives. Building friendships and trust. And despite her resistance. Despite her better judgment, she'd even gone and done the unthinkable.

She'd fallen in love.

In the end though, all of the hard-work, dedication, and even the occasional near-misses and screw-ups had paid off. The Collectors had tumbled like leaves in the wind to the well-oiled machine that was her squad. Unimaginably, they'd even taken down one monstrous looking Reaper with no losses among the team or crew. (It was unfortunate that the colonists hadn't been saved. But, it was not unexpected.) This time, it wasn't just dumb luck that got them all out alive.

Luck had let her down too often in the past for her to trust it with anything so important these days. Older and wiser and all that.

Nothing she had learned, however, none of the experiences she'd had, none of the pain she had suffered, prepared her what came next. Riding high on their success, and mentally preparing for the battle to come, she'd managed to block out the looming reality that was Thane's advancing illness.

He'd made it so easy to do so. And there was nothing to prepare her for watching someone she loved slide inexplicably towards a death that she couldn't prevent. To watch their body fester and fold under an enemy as ethereal as the air itself.

It weighed on her mind how she'd ignored the signs. Made her wonder if they could have extended his time somehow. But he had always been quiet. Preferring to observe rather then interact. She loved how each word he spoke was always carefully measured. Its implications, its intentions clearly laid out. It gave them a weight that careless conversation could never hope to achieve.

And at night – at night he put dreams of the imaginary Kaidan to shame. The reality of him, skin that prickled under the slightest touch. Gentle ridges that flared when her fingers skated over them. The liquidy taste of his kiss – cool, velvet tongue tangled with hers. The heady sensation of his sweat bursting across her lips, and the kaleidoscope of colors it caused to dance before her eyes.

Every moment, every single _second,_ drawn out for maximum impact. Night after night they would curl their bodies together. He would slip between her legs, or she would slide onto his lap. His hands, so alien and yet so utterly familiar, would grip the skin of her hips. Reverently. The control that he had was unsurpassed (at least in Shepard's experience). The way that he would thrust into her languidly for what felt like ages, dangling her over the precipice. Again and again and again. His merged fingers rubbing in concentric circles; pressing against her in masterful strokes – until she'd be near to sobbing for release.

She had never known peace before like she did when she fell asleep in his arms. One leg strewn over his, and her hand pressed to his chest. The strange off-beat sound emanating from within would lull her to slumber, while the stars zoomed by overhead.

~~~\/~~~

While most nights they slept, enjoying one another in silence, some nights he would talk with her; little moments of precious insight. She knew that with him, even the most innocuous of talks had a defined purpose.

"_There is a story, Siha. Of a warrior. Long she lives, wandering between worlds, joining in battle after battle. Always winning. But she never settles, or grows old. Although she can bring death to many, she herself is denied this. Static as the stars. An unwhole being. She longs to find the missing part of herself._

"_One day, she meets a young man across the field of battle. He is worn, his body broken, his chance of survival minute. But he entrances her all the same. She steals away with him, nursing him back to health. And with him, she finds the soul that she longed for; the other piece of herself. His love for her is true, and unending. And together, they are unstoppable. But he is mortal; and a day comes when he returns to the sea._

"_Untold time goes by, and she lives, incomplete. Waiting for his return. But he does not come. The sea does not return that which it takes."_

She'd remembered being confused by both the timing and the content of the tale, even if she had enjoyed every moment of its recital in that melodious voice of his. She had always been dense when it came to things like that, even Ashley's poetry had always gone over her head; but in that blissful state post-phenomenal sex she could barely recall her name, let alone understand literary metaphors. "That's depressing, Thane. Maybe something a little more uplifting post-coital from now on."

He'd hummed, whether in agreement or disagreement, she couldn't say. But she'd felt a bit guilty, and slightly curious. So her voice sleepy, and eyes heavy, she'd questioned him on its meaning.

"Forever is a long time, Siha."

That had made her smile, "that's the generally accepted definition, yeah." He'd pressed a kiss to her forehead, and pulled her more tightly to him. Sleep had been calling, so she'd filed away her questions for some other time.

~~~\/~~~

It was not so many days after that when she'd lifted her head from the pillow, and reached out a hand to Thane to nudge him awake, amazed that he'd slept through the obnoxious bed-side alarm (designed to blast like an Earthborn rooster at 0500 every day).

But he hadn't awoken. He lived still – but his breaths were shallow; a rasping, watery sound emanated from his lungs. Even as the irregular beat of his heart stumbled weakly in between.

Panicked, she'd summoned both Chakwas and Mordin, barely having sense enough to throw on a shirt before their arrival. They'd carted Thane down to the med-bay, plugging him into devices that Shepard thought more suitable for medieval torture chambers then a spaceship. His veins were pumped full of more meds than she imagined his blood could hold, but still he slept.

Days had trailed into weeks. Time impossible to chart as she stayed by his bedside as often as she could manage (which was far more than she probably should, though Miranda never once complained - the crew was still working on deciphering the Collector base's information after all, and they had some down time available).

By his side, she'd sat in silence, hand clasped around his. Stroking her thumb down his skin - unsure if he could feel her there. Wishing that she could tell him stories the way he'd always told her, but she was awful at that sort of thing. (Impassioned speeches were more her speed.)

And each day, she'd watched the bright hue of his skin fade to a dull, sickly mockery of the vibrant color it once was.

~~~\/~~~

Garrus would come almost daily as well. He'd sit with Thane when Shepard had duties that had to be attended to - understanding that she didn't want him left alone - but mostly he showed up under the guise of providing her with food. ("You know, Shepard, the mess hall is right outside the window. I'm sure that Gardner would be willing to bring you something, if you would just hit the comm button once in awhile.") Some days it would be an apple or a pear - which he would leave her to eat in peace. Other times, he'd show up just after dinner, a tray in each hand, and join her in her quiet vigil.

Once, he'd shown up late in the night (she had taken to spending most of them on the cot next to Thane's – the bed in her loft felt far too lonely now), with an actual honest-to-goodness chocolate sundae in hand, complete with cracked nuts and fudge topping.

"Where in God's name did you _get _this, Garrus!" She'd been shocked; awed, and absolutely thrilled at the prospect of eating the thing. He had positively preened at her reaction. Mandibles flared out in a fashion she had long-ago identified as a mix of pride and happiness.

"The last time we docked at the Citadel. I got a lead on a new shop that opened up on the lower levels of Zakera Ward. Specializes in human foodstuffs. I don't know if its any good, but it better be, considering the credits that asari charged me. Gardner helped put it all together though, I can't imagine the travesty that it would have been if I'd attempted it instead."

Her mouth had dropped open, jaw aiming for the floor. "You- I can't believe- that was over three weeks ago, Garrus! Hell, that was before..." And just as quickly as it had started, her good mood had begun to evaporate - her eyes drawn back to the drell laying motionless by her side. The rhythmic beating of the machines attached to him echoed obnoxiously in the sudden silence. A breath of air tore its way through her lungs, and she felt her chin tremble, just the once, as she tried to will Thane's eyes to open.

A light touch upon her forearm brought her attention back to Garrus. Shamefully, she'd nearly forgotten he was there. His hand lingered on her skin, the warmth from the bare talons pulsated through her, helping to ground her to the here and now.

Once he seemed to be certain he had her attention, he slowly retracted the hand, although the palm of it ghosted lightly against her side as it dropped. His voice was subdued, the flanging effect deepened as a result. "I know. I just thought you'd appreciate a nice treat. I remember the way Ash and you always reverted to children when you'd just catch a glimpse of the stuff. Couldn't imagine how you'd react if you actually got to eat some. Thought it might be fun for the infamous Commander Shepard to...drop your hair down? Is that the saying?"

"Heh. Close enough."

"Would have given it to you right away, but things were a bit hectic, and then well..." His shoulders had lifted and fallen in a half shrug as his voice trailed off, the implication of what had happened next clear to them both."I thought maybe you could use it now."

It amazed her how much easier to read he was now, compared to when they'd first met. There was still much she was sure was missed in translation, their two species so divergent from one another as they were, but the look in his cobalt eyes was unmistakable as he awaited her reaction. He was both hopeful, and concerned.

And he had a slowly melting sundae in one hand.

"Oh! Garrus, here! Give me that before it drips all over you." She'd quickly swiped the thing out of his grip, and wiped a finger along his wrist, where a little dollop had fallen. She'd sucked the drop off of her fingertip without any thought. The delicious taste of the concoction had exploded on her taste buds so suddenly, that she'd been helpless to stop her eyes from closing, or from moaning out loud in sheer delight.

When she'd opened them and saw Garrus' slack jawed face, she'd blushed. She could only imagine what he must have thought of her display. "Uh...sorry."

He'd shaken his head once, the med-bay light bouncing off his fringe as he did, "I take it that was a good reaction?"

She'd given him an awkward smile, "Most certainly."

He breathed a sigh in what she assumed was relief, and stood from his chair. "Well then, my work here is done. Enjoy it Shepard, and..." He'd glanced up to Thane's prone figure, eyes lingering for a moment before resting on her once more. "Try and get some sleep."

She'd acquiesced to his request with a nod, and he'd hesitated a moment before reaching out and giving her shoulder a subtle squeeze.

She'd felt oddly bereft when he had gone. The taste of the chocolate not nearly as appetizing with only her unconscious lover to share it with.

~~~\/~~~

Several more days had ticked on by, with no forward progress in Thane's condition. And the pitying glances that Chakwas would grant her daily were grating on her nerves. She felt like nothing was being done to save him! Like everyone was just waiting, allowing his body to wither away like some...like some _husk_. And she couldn't stomach it any longer. She was damn well not going to sit by for another moment, and hope that Mordin was doing his job in the lab.

Angry. Frustrated. Ready to wreak havoc on anyone that got in her way, she had stormed from the med-bay, not bothering to find someone to sit with Thane, and ridden the damnably slow elevator to Mordin's lab. She'd torn into the salarian. Giving him a verbal lashing built out of desperation and fear. Demanding action. Requiring unreasonable results. She was still ranting in that lab when Thane's body finally gave out.

She'd left him to die all alone. And she would never forgive herself.

* * *

~~~\/~~~

* * *

Garrus was at a loss. It had been three days since the drell had succumbed to his illness. Three days, and Shepard had yet to show signs of acceptance. She'd returned to the CIC before his body was even cold, read through the vast backlog of unread messages on her terminal, and directed Joker to follow the coordinates to some outer-edge planet where a shipment of eezo had gone missing. Not a word was spoken about what had just taken place. What she had lost.

Three days, and she'd yet to contact Kolyat, or make arrangements for Thane's funeral. The turian had no idea what was typical for a drell when they died, but he knew that remaining in the cold storage area of the Normandy was not an acceptable long-term solution.

Garrus wanted nothing more than to go to her (she had finally returned to her cabin at night). Wanted to talk with her, or sit in silence. Wrap his arms around her, or wait patiently for her to blabber about nothing of importance like they use to do. Wanted to help the ice encasing her melt away. Wanted to simply _be near her._ The real her. Not this detached facsimile that was haunting the ship.

If she had reacted poorly when Kaidan had died, than this was a thousand times worse. And he had no clue what to do about it. He somehow couldn't imagine that cheesy vids, or sweet-tasting snacks were going to fix things this time.

He figured that he had no choice but to wait it out. Wait for her to ease into her grief on her own terms. And be there when she needed him.

It's all he'd ever wanted to give her after all. Time. His attention. His assistance. _Him_.

He'd long since accepted the emotions he held for the woman. His commanding officer, and closest friend. They had snuck up on him at first. Tiny, stumbling steps that lead him to the realization that somewhere along the line trust and respect and friendship had evolved into something deeper, more far-reaching and enduring for him.

He'd never been in love before. Life in the military hadn't allowed for long-lasting relationships, and every moment in C-Sec had been an exercise in frustration - there'd been no one there he'd really connected with (the odd short-term companion, notwithstanding). So while he couldn't say for certain that what he felt for Shepard was love, he also couldn't identify it as anything else.

If pressed, and horribly drunk, he may have admitted to a lingering resentment over her relationship with the assassin. He'd been confused, and somewhat hurt initially, when she had confessed to him her growing feelings for the drell. She'd known the man for such a short time, and Garrus couldn't quite grasp how she had fallen for him. He seemed so reserved. So quiet. Nothing like the boisterous extrovert that Shepard was on most days. (He could easily recall at least two separate occasions when it had been necessary to scoop Shepard's intoxicated body off of a bathroom floor, after she'd engaged in drinking games while at the Citadel. He couldn't imagine the drell ever letting his guard down so much.)

And yes, there was the matter of him not being human. It made Garrus wonder why, if Shepard was going to enter into a relationship with someone of another species, why it was the drell. Or, more specifically, why it wasn't _him_. Why she would forever see him as nothing more than a friend.

But she was happy. So obviously, blissfully happy, that he felt awful for begrudging her that, even for a moment. True, the knowledge of how she was spending her nights was a bitter pill for the turian, but it was better to deal with that, than it had been to deal with her being dead.

Her death and resurrection had brought everything into sharp focus, and he knew that he would follow her anywhere - even to hell and back (they'd managed that a few times already) - no matter her feelings for Thane. It didn't matter to him that she was human. Didn't matter to him that his feelings would forever solidify him as a 'bad turian'. Didn't matter that she would never feel for him what he felt for her.

None of that mattered. What mattered was that she remained in his life, in whatever capacity. And that he was there for her, whenever she needed him.

~~~\/~~~

Of _course_ the recovery of the stolen eezo shipment couldn't have gone smoothly. As soon as the shuttle had touched down on the planet's surface, EDI had blared through their comms and informed them that scans had identified a Blood Pack base nearby.

And by nearby, what she meant was, directly in front of them, with only an over-sized thorn bush in between. (Garrus was highly irritated that the blasted AI hadn't been able to figure that out _before_ they landed, what good was telling them once they were practically nose to nose with the suckers?)

Any other day, and the mission would have been a cut and dry run. Shepard would have directed Garrus to find a sniping spot, and then her and Thane would have skirted the boundaries of the merc base tossing out well-timed warps and overloads. The three would work in unison to take down the heavily armored krogan, and have been back onboard the Kodiak with the eezo in hand before lunch.

But it wasn't any other day. And Thane was dead. Instead, Shepard had brought along Mordin; and nothing was balanced right.

The scientist was brilliant at everything he did, but what he couldn't do was knock out the krogan regenerative abilities with relative ease. He also didn't mesh with Shepard's style particularly well. The three were floundering, overwhelmed by sheer numbers and poor strategy. And Shepard was losing it.

"Damn it, Mordin! Get your ass back here and shock these bastards!"

"On my way. Need to deal with current problem. Three to one odds. Not good."

Garrus had popped off two more shots in quick succession, taking out one of the ugliest krogan's he'd ever seen, before swiveling his rifle to the right, where he'd promptly caught sight of the still ranting Shepard in his scope. _Spirits! what is she doing?_ The woman was launching herself out of cover, spraying the area in front of her wildly with her SMG before diving towards another bit of cover further forward, Making a weaving zig-zag pattern for the door. Was she planning to infiltrate the base through the front door? _By herself?_

"Shepard - you need to fall back. I won't be able to cover you if you keep pressing forward." He waited, talon itching on the trigger as he tried to get a clear shot off on one of the mercs, but Shepard's head kept getting in the way. "Shepard! Fall back!"

The sound of a crackling comm filled with only labored breathing was his response.

"Damn it!" She wasn't responding. Wasn't paying a lick of attention, and she had no one to get her six from that position. An awful feeling was fermenting in his gut, and before he had time to think it through, he slung the sniper over his shoulder, and vaulted over the wall in front of him.

The fall to the ground was a doable seven meters, but it still rattled his knees when he hit the dirt below. He swung his head upward and to the right, and caught sight of the sun shimmering off Shepard's armor at his three, as she virtually threw herself into the direct line of fire. Her comm was off, but he could hear the battle cry screaming out of her. Her shots were going wild, and damn it all to hell! Her shields had just gone down. But she wasn't stopping, wasn't looking for cover. Wasn't moving to replace what he _knew_ had to be a nearly totaled heat sink. Wasn't doing anything but snarling and holding her finger down on the trigger.

Garrus didn't think, he just went for it. Sprinted full force towards her, and tackled her from the side. They landed with a resounding crack on the ground, behind the facility wall; the local flora scrapping at their sides.

Her furious cry, and the pelting she tried to level on him with her fists, was all he needed to know that she wasn't badly harmed. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Garrus! Get the hell off me! We have a mission!"

His mandibles flared out widely in irritation, and he snagged an arm around her middle, yanking her upright with him, and throwing her over his shoulder. "Not anymore we don't." His body ached from the falls, and from Shepard's angry attacks on his back with her heavily gloved fists (she might have been able to overpower him, if she hadn't already been injured and weak from her idiotic actions). He pressed all of the pain and the anger to the back of his mind, and raced quickly back towards the shuttle. Even managing to snag a confused, but grateful, Mordin along the way.

He knew there would be hell to pay for his actions, but it was worth it if it meant that Shepard lived another day.

~~~\/~~~

He'd allowed her the chance to be seen by Chakwas, allowed her to snarl out harsh words to poor Chambers, and tell Miranda that her "damned debriefing can wait." It gave him a chance to get out of the bloodied armor that he was wearing. He hated wondering the ship in civvies, but the scent of her blood on him was too much to handle, and he didn't have time to clean it from the armor, so the civvies would have to do.

He'd gotten back in time to watch her board the elevator, but let her ride it to her cabin alone, if only to save face in front of her crew. The second she got off that elevator, though, he jumped onboard and rode it to the top level.

His anger at her actions had begun to subside, if only a fraction. Even then, it was only because it was being replaced by a deep-rooted fear. (The latter emotion was far worse.)

He didn't want to think about what she had done down on the planet. How she had disregarded all of her training and tactics, and run head-on into a battle she couldn't win as if that was the point. It made him dizzy just to think about it like that.

She'd answered his chime at her door with extreme efficiency, the look on her face one that would make lesser men squirm. "What do you want, Vakarian?"

He didn't want to have this discussion, but it had to be done. Still he figured it would be best to play the cool-headed counterpart to her boiling rage. He shuffled from one foot to the next, and dropped his hands behind him in a classic subordinate stance. "Can I come in, Commander?" There. Use of her rank, and not her name. A good way to keep this professional.

She snorted, and stepped from the door, waving him in with a wide arcing hand. "I'm surprised you bothered to ask permission, considering your act of blatant insubordination earlier."

He meant to be cool. Collected. He really did. But hearing her call him 'insubordinate' when he saved her life was more than he could handle. He crossed the threshold with a growl, leveling his eyes on her. "My blatant act of insubordination saved your thin hide earlier."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, and leaned back from him, trying for disinterested and failing miserably. (He had learned to read her like an open book very early on - she'd never been good at keeping her emotions hidden regardless.)

He took a step closer, until she was backed up to the stairs in her room. But she didn't waver. He would have been shocked if she did. "Or maybe you completely missed how your shields had failed. Failed! Shepard. You were one shot away from taking a bullet to the head." There was a deep rumble in his voice, made even more apparent by the frustration threading through his veins. "That visor of yours doesn't protect your skull you know."

She bristled, and huffed, and then did a most surprising thing. She let out a chuckle. A brittle one, without any humor. It was one of the most awful sounds Garrus had ever heard. She turned from him, and took the steps to the lower level. He was helpless but to follow.

"Yeah. I'd noticed."

Anger surged itself within him, and he crossed to her once more. His eye-piece told him that she was but 1.5 meters away. And that her heart-rate was level. She honestly didn't _care_. "So what? That was your plan? To get riddled with as many krogan slugs as you could?"

She tossed her hands out to her side, open, a seemingly inviting gesture; and then let them drop. "I'd hope to take out a few dozen of them before it got to that point, but basically. Yeah."

His mandibles clacked in irritation, and he took two long strides to her, eliminating the distance between them almost entirely. _Of all the ridiculous... _"So what? Your just gonna throw your life away - all you've accomplished - all you could _still_ accomplish? And for what? For some misplaced sense of guilt?" She snorted, and crossed her arms defensively in front of her again.

"Newsflash, Shepard. You're not the first person to lose someone they care about. But we don't all seek out death by firing squad." And yes, he was fully aware of the hypocrisy in that statement.

Besides _that_ at least, managed to spike her heart-rate. It was almost gratifying, managing to get a rise out of her after how cold she'd been. A tiny part of him railed at the idea of causing her any kind of pain, but drastic times…

"What the hell do you know about it, Garrus? Yeah, sure. Everyone's lost people. I get that." She poked a finger at her own chest. "I **know **that I don't have exclusive rights to that claim. Hell, we're soldiers. Comes in the job description, right? But this wasn't some battle, Garrus! He wasn't gunned down...he just died." She sounded so helpless, lost. "You know **nothing** about how I'm feeling." The emotions were burning hot in her again, so he tried for cool as a counterbalance.

"So why don't you tell me, hmm? What can't I possibly get about this?"

She bounced on the balls of her feet once, like she was planning on getting into his face, but pulled back at the last second. She was talking though, and that was an improvement. "I failed him, Garrus. When I should have - I should have -" She caught a broken sob in her throat, and held onto it. He may have been awed by her resolve to not cry in front of him, if he wasn't so concerned.

He reached out, grabbing both of her arms in his hands. As strong as she was, as wired and muscled as she was, his talons were able to wrap entirely around those limbs. She was so small in comparison to him. He feared if he didn't get through to her now, he would lose his chance, and she'd fall back in that hole she had dug for herself. "_What_, Shepard? Talk to me. _Tell_ me."

Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes darted away from his. "Why? Why should I bother talking about anything. Its not going to do any good." She heaved a breath, but didn't break his hold on her. He felt rotten and wrong for being thankful for that. But maybe he was getting to her. So caught up in watching the emotions play out on her face, her next words caught him off guard.

Her voice little more than a croak. "Who did you lose? Was it...I mean I know a little about your crew on Omega, and maybe that's what you meant, but the way you said it sounded more..."

He swallowed. "Personal?"

"Yeah."

He lowered his eyes from her for a moment. Hands still clasped on her arms. The heat of her skin searing through his hide. "It was."

"Who...?"

He stiffened. Shit. Not the time. If ever there could have been less the time to have that discussion, it was now. He shook his head once. Hoping she wouldn't catch him in a lie. "Not important. Its in the past." He bent his knees slightly, trying to bring them onto the same level, not wanting to lose her attention now that he seemed to have it. "The point is that you aren't alone in this Shepard. You're acting like you are, but you don't have to be."

"That your professional opinion, Vakarian?"

"Yeah - I've been taking evening lessons from Kelly."

She snorted, an almost laugh escaping her. "Wow. Never knew you had a thing for red-heads."

"Shepard..." He angled his head towards her, and stroked his talons down her arm, from shoulder to elbow, and then back up again. Hoping he wasn't overstepping any boundaries. Jokes were all well and good, but he needed the seriousness of the situation to make itself visible to her. Apparently, it did.

"I wasn't there when he died. Alright? I should have been. But I wasn't..." Her voice cut off with a cough; her vocals rough and moist sounding, and it made him suck in a breath. "I wasn't..."

Oh, fuck it. Fuck it. He couldn't keep it quiet any more. It was stupid, and idiotic, and possibly the worst decision of his life. But he needed to say it, and damn it all, she needed to hear it. "Neither was I."

She blinked up at him. Her eyelids moving rapidly in confusion as she processed his words. She tried for levity, and he should have been grateful, but he really wasn't. Not when her voice wavered as she spoke, betraying her real emotions. "I know you guys got along alright, Garrus, but I had no idea that you felt that way. First Kelly, now Thane..." Her voice trailed off when she spoke his name. Garrus saw her eyes start to lose focus, and he gave her a little shake, to keep her in the here and now. Knowing that he'd lose his nerve if she curled in on herself again.

"That's not who I'm talking about, and you know it." He closed his eyes to avoid her questioning stare, and allowed himself a moment to enjoy the slight give of her flesh against his palms. Certain he'd never feel it again. With courage he didn't feel, he locked eyes with her once more. "You were gone a long time, Shepard. And I spent almost every day wishing I had been on that ship, and not wasting away in C-Sec. Trust me when I tell you that way leads to madness."

He could feel her tremble in his grip when she shook her head. "That's not the same, Garrus. You didn't- you weren't-"

The growl that reverberated out of him was loud. Angry. Unexpected. But he couldn't stop it. "It was _exactly_ the same, Shepard!" He heaved a deep breath, not wanting to yell at her. She had no way of knowing how he felt. "Sure, the specifics were different. And I'm not going to pretend to know what it was like for you, I think that's personal. But the helplessness? The guilt? The empty way you feel afterward - positive that had you been there-" He near choked on his words, her eyes widening with every syllable he spoke. He could almost feel their friendship crumbling to dust around him. "_That_ was the same."

"Garrus-"

"Look, Shepard. I'm not telling you this cause I want anything." He paused a beat, reorganizing his thoughts. "No. Wait. I do want something. I want you to trust me. I haven't always been a hundred percent honest, and maybe that was a mistake. But foolish notions of pride aside, I want you to understand how serious I am." He let his head fall forward a bit, stealing a moment close to her, encouraged that she hadn't started screaming at him - or thrown him out - yet. She actually seemed to be listening. "I nearly fell apart when you died." His voice had dropped to a whisper. It was hard revealing things he'd expected to keep buried.

"For awhile - I wanted the same as you did today. Hell, it was probably more than half the reason I ended up on Omega. But at some point, not sure how or when, I got the idea in my head that you'd be mightily pissed off if I got myself killed over a dead woman. Even if that woman was you."

She shook her head, her eyes wide – a gesture of surprise, as far as he'd been able to decipher at least. "I didn't know."

He raised his head back, and stood straight again to relieve some of the ache in his legs. He was being cruel to his knees today. "I know. Didn't matter. And Shepard..."

She blinked, her eyes looked bird like, they were so round. "Yeah?"

He steeled himself, unsure of what her reaction might be, but knowing that she needed it laid out for her where it could easily be seen. "Thane wouldn't want that either. He put a lot of effort into keeping you around."

This time, the sob did break loose from her. "I know." Her head fell forward, towards his chest.

He knew she was just trying to hide the evidence of her tears, slight though they might be. But he pulled her close regardless. Nestled her head beneath his chin. Glad that he'd had to drop the armor before coming up now. The position would have been impossible if he hadn't.

He could only hope she didn't feel him shaking.

At first her arms laid flaccid at her sides. But after several minutes, she lifted them up to fold around him. The tears that had escaped her seeming without permission, had ceased. Something for which he was immensely grateful.

Tentatively he pressed her closer; stroked a talon along her back. Remembering that she had enjoyed that long ago. There was no reaction at first, but then she surprised him once again.

She moved with a speed that he'd witnessed her use in battle before, but he'd never seen up close. Not like this. One second, she was tucked in his arms, the next, she had pulled herself up onto her toes, hands wrapped around the back of his throat to tug on his fringe until his head was lowered once more, and she pressed her mouth hard against his.

To say he had no idea what to do was an understatement. He stumbled, thrown off-balance by her attack, and nearly tumbled onto the couch. Just catching himself as he hit the arm of the seat with his side, and subsequently landed on the cushion with an 'oomph'.

She didn't let go. Her tongue was tracing the edge of his mouth, uncaring that he didn't have lips like hers, or that his teeth could sever the organ with little effort. She melded her body against his. Pressing, wriggling, tugging him closer until his own body rumbled a response.

He gave in, only for a second. Just one second. Let his hands slide through her hair, gripping the silky strands he'd always loved in a desperate hold. Enjoyed the supple give of her body against his unforgiving one. (He was suddenly thankful that they had fallen to the couch, as he didn't think he could have maintained his body in a fully upright position any longer.)

What harm could it do to allow himself a moment? One he'd always craved, but never believed…

There were so many things he could try and use to justify this, but they would all be hollow lies. There was no justification. He opened his mouth to hers, unsure how to return her gesture, but wanting to try.

Just this once. And then he would pull away. He'd pull away, set things to right, and hope that he didn't lose his best friend in the process.

* * *

~~~\/~~~

* * *

She'd lied when she'd told him that she didn't know how he felt. Well...maybe lie was the wrong term. She hadn't actually _known_, but she'd suspected. That wasn't the same thing, was it?

But how could she have known? He'd never confessed, and she saw no reason to force an awkward conversation. Especially when she respected him too much to offer up empty platitudes.

There'd been a few occasions when she'd wondered. Given herself a moment to contemplate what it would be like, but they were fleeting imaginings, with no real intent behind them. She'd been half-in-love with Kaidan when they'd first become close, and she hadn't picked up on his interest then. By the time she had identified the stares that lasted longer than propriety would dictate, or the tightly held mandibles which signaled his embarrassment every time she'd idly flirt, for what they truly were...she had already fallen for Thane. So she'd put it out of her mind, the same way it seemed he had.

It had worked well for both of them. Until now.

Now, there were feelings threatening to surface inside of her that she wasn't ready to deal with. Garrus had said that she wasn't alone. That she didn't have to go through this alone. And that just made it _harder_. Because Thane **had** been alone. Right when it counted most. And he deserved more than that.

More than some dim-witted soldier who remembered to update the damn ship's shields, or Jack's biotic implants, but didn't sink any creds into finding a cure for her lover's terminal illness. Then she'd done the greatest disservice, and waltzed away from him right before he'd died. Leaving him in a cold and clinical room, with no one by his side – save Dr. Chakwas, but that hardly counted. Not in Shepard's mind.

There was nothing even remotely acceptable about any of it – no matter how you tried to spin it.

There was panic coiling and churning and threatening to break through her from the inside out. She could feel it. Feel her control slipping. Feel cracks forming in her well-built walls. Garrus was piercing through her defenses, and she was afraid, oh-so-afraid, that he would succeed. And then what would she be? Some broken, brittle woman sobbing for her loss?

What good were tears? They couldn't bring him back. Couldn't heal him. What the hell could they possibly do for her? Still her traitorous ducts were welling with the vile water, threatening to spill. And she couldn't allow that. Couldn't be overtaken by grief.

Because if she was, then she didn't think it would ever stop. She had to do something, _anything_ to make it stop. But her whole mind was taken over by Thane, and as long as he was there, his voice caressing her memories, she'd always be liable to break.

And that wasn't acceptable.

So it was a simple thing really, to launch herself at Garrus. Sex could be so many things. She'd learned that long ago. It could be fun, no-strings attached, with a man you knew for less than a day. It could be stress relief with a fellow soldier after a tough mission. It could be heat to block out the cold, and it could be sweet-nothings amongst cotton sheets. And right then? Right then she needed an anesthetic.

So it was easy.

She forced her mouth upon his, and tasted the slightly metallic tang of his alien skin against her lips. Pushed him, until they'd fallen to the couch, and she was sprawled in his lap. Her insides were reeling, and her heart was screaming, but he was warm. Delicious, mind-numbingly warm. When he finally responded, finally wrapped his arms fully around her and tugged her body into him. Slipped his tongue along hers, she thought she would explode, she was so grateful.

She trailed her mouth down along his jawline, leaving little biting kisses on his mandible, in a trail to his throat. When she sucked hard on the skin there, his hips arched up and he released a deep-voiced moan that went straight to her core. Her own body responding to the suddenly insistent presence pressing up against her stomach. She felt talons digging into the skin along her back, and it was blissful.

The pleasure-pain over-rode all thoughts in her head, until finally, _finally_ she was able to shut out the voices yelling at her from within. Garrus was her friend - her _best_ friend. And he had feelings for her that went beyond those boundaries, and maybe it wasn't fair to him to be doing this, but she **needed** it.

With all of that drowned out, she reached her hand between the two of them, and stroked along the growing evidence of his arousal. Slipped her hand beneath the waist of his pants, and wrapped her fingers around the heat of him, absently noticing how similar he was to other men. She swallowed his gasp with another kiss.

* * *

~~~\/~~~

* * *

One moment had turned into two. And then twenty. And with each suckling, nibble she left along his neck - with each squeeze of her hand against him, he felt his resolve cracking.

Never in his deepest, darkest fantasies had he'd imagined anything like this. Nothing he may have encountered on the extranet could prepare him for having this woman crawling on his body as if she couldn't get close enough to him. What was the harm...?

When she started actually working on the fastenings of his trousers, not just working around them, a clarion bell went off in his head, and he forced himself to pull back. Hands at her hips, when all they wanted to do was explore her exquisitely soft skin – so different from anything he had ever know. She had stolen all of the breath from his lungs with her desperate kisses, but he found a scrap of voice somehow. "Shepard - wait."

She grumbled something as she continue to tug at the fastenings, a triumphant crow passing her lips when she got the latch to give free. He snagged her hand before it could delve back inside, and held her wrist firmly in his trembling grip. His whole body was vibrating with tension, berating him for stopping. But he had to. He _had to_.

She delved back into his throat, licking along the sensitive skin there, letting her hand remain immobile between them, "waiting is over-rated." And then her free-hand found the tender skin at the back of his neck, and he felt his entire body seize up. The need coursing through him like lightning. He released her hand so that he could grab both of her shoulders and pull her back. Panting with the effort it took not to throw her down and tear her clothes off.

The pupils of her eyes had dilated until the iris was nearly gone, and she was gasping for breath just the same as him. The tiny tendrils of will he still possessed were fast unraveling. "Shepard -_ Jane_ \- wait."

That got her her attention, if the fear that light up her face was any indication. She reached up, and unhooked the front of her uniform. Keeping her eyes on him as she tugged it open and off. Beneath it, she wore a tiny swath of cloth over her chest. He was mesmerized as she reached behind her and unlatched something, releasing the material, and revealing her breasts to his eyes.

He wasn't quite prepared for the throbbing want that shot through him at the sight. Turian women didn't have these, but he was familiar enough with the concept - having seen countless asari during his patrols with C-Sec, and later on Omega - to understand their appeal. He'd never given them much thought, however. So the need he felt at their reveal surprised him a great deal. He suspected it was wound all the more tightly, because it was Shepard.

Then her hand reached for one of his, and lifted it up to her bare breast, and placed it upon her. Her own five-fingered hand remained in place on top of his, and that gesture was almost as intimate as anything else for him. He was shocked out of his visual assessment, and shot his eyes back up to hers.

"I don't want to wait, Garrus. I need this." She closed her eyes, and moved their joint hands together, mewling a little when he traced the darkened flesh at the center of her breast with a carefully drawn talon.

She arched into his hand. "_Please_?"

His resolve snapped.

~~~\/~~~

It was dizzying. Human flesh against turian hide. Shepard's velveteen tongue, and Garrus' prickly surfaced one. Their clothes were torn off in quick succession. Garrus' hands were no longer idle. Dancing over every part of her that they could reach. Alternating harsh strokes with soft caresses. Trailing tickling talons along her nipples, hips, the bit of bundled nerves between her thighs which seemed to make her cry out in panting sobs. He'd sooth the pain they would draw out with the warm palm of his hand.

Shepard's mouth tasted every inch of him that it could. Nibbles and licks and sucks. Teeth and tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to draw guttural moans and harsh curses from his throat. Each one more desperate and needy than the last.

When her hand finally tugged him between her thighs, with pleas for "now, please, now" falling from her throat, his hips snapped forward, pressing the harshly ridged length of him inside, and they both cried out. Garrus was forced to hold his position for several long seconds, the sensation of her tightly wrapped around him almost too much to bear. He pressed his forehead to hers and took deep, slow breaths Opened eyes taking in her own tightly closed ones as she too calmed her breathing. Shepard's hands trembled along his cowl, until she began arching, and thrusting, and pressing into him until he set a frantic pace. The heels of her feet digging into the back of his thighs, as she cried out. More. Faster. Harder.

When they tumbled from the couch, and Shepard landed on top of him, Garrus thought that was the end of him. Feeling her thrusting down upon him. Those utterly amazing hips circling against him. The grip of her hands and her movements becoming harsher, more erratic, with every passing second. The way she wiggled and ground into him was draining him dry, and he knew that it wouldn't, _couldn't_, last much longer.

Instinct took over and he flipped her back underneath him, knocking the coffee table out of the way, and rocking his hips into hers. Taking back control.

When he lost it once again, he buried his face against her throat; teeth latching onto the skin there, but careful not to break it. He heard a muffled cry, and felt her body arch up as hands and legs and feet dug into him, pulling him closer.

Once his breathing evened out, he lifted his head. Sense filtering back in slowly through the haze, and fear flooding his systems. What he saw made his stomach plummet.

At some point, either he or Shepard must have bitten her lip, as it was dotted with little beads of her blood. But that wasn't what got him. What got him was her closed eyes.

The closed eyes that were slowly leaking tears.

He reached out at a hand to touch her cheek, and felt his heart tear open when she flinched from him. "Shepard?" There was no way he could mask the worry, or the hurt, in his voice. The situation made even more awful by the fact that they were still rather intimately attached.

Though she didn't open her eyes, she did speak. He almost wished she hadn't. "It's okay, Garrus. I just..." She paused, but didn't look at him. "Just need time."

He swallowed, and nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "Okay." He pulled back, separating himself from her, his body screaming in protest.

As soon as he lifted his body from hers, she wasted little time in reaching for the top of her uniform, tossing it on over her, but not latching it. He had no idea if that was a good sign or not. "I'm just, I'm just going to go take a shower now." Her voice was even, the tone slightly dulled, but the implications in it clear.

She needed time. She was going to take a shower. And he shouldn't be here when she was done.

"Alright."

She nodded, and crossed into her bathroom.

Everything was most certainly _not_ alright.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said something about this being only two parts, right? Well...I lied. My revisions revealed to me that a large chunk of what I had originally intended to include in this part, needed to be set off on its own. I'm still working on the edits to that, so my apologies on the delay. Here's hoping that this section doesn't disappoint, and the final part should be up in a few days at most. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to click, read, and/or review. You are all awesome :-)

Shepard couldn't get the water hot enough. Redundant safety features were built into the Normandy's systems, and that included making sure the commanding officer didn't scald herself under her shower head. Whether she intended to or not.

Because she couldn't turn the heat up high enough to burn away the ache pulsating throughout her body (both internal and external), she switched it off entirely. Opting instead to twist the cold water on full force. Let the spray turn into an ice-bath, and watched her flesh pebble with goosebumps. The little hairs standing on end along her forearm mesmerized her. The pallor of her flesh under the abusive liquid was intriguing. The rattle of her teeth as her body uselessly attempted to raise her rapidly dropping internal temperature, musical.

Of course it couldn't last. Not because she didn't have the wherewithal to stay in there until she lost consciousness, and her body went into shock, but because of the Normandy's damned redundant safety features, and one overly nosy AI.

"Commander Shepard, I have switched off the water supply in your shower. Ship systems indicated that your basal body temperature had lowered to 35.8°C, bringing you dangerously close to hypothermic levels."

She dropped her head against the cold, metal wall - hands braced on either side; willing her vocal cords to move. "Understood, EDI."

Now that the water had been turned off, the blood started to rush back to the surface of her skin, causing an overload of prickling sensations all across its surface. She was in no hurry to leave the room, so she took her time grabbing for a towel and rubbing her body dry.

She winced when she reached the inner portions of her thighs. A quick examination revealed scrapped up skin and an excessive amount of redness. The source of the damage was not hard to figure out. A vivid flash of Garrus' armored body pressed against hers shot through her head like a bullet; his eyes shut, and mandibles drawn tightly to the side of his face – his cybernetic implant glowing brightly in her memory. "Shit."

As if blocking out the events of the past hour wouldn't have been difficult enough, it would be nearly impossible if she was reminded every time she took a step. There was nothing to do for it now though, as she wasn't about to head to Chakwas or Mordin for an ointment. She'd just have to snag some medi-gel next time she was down to the crew-deck (she'd completely exhausted her supply on the shuttle back from the botched mission) and hope no one asked any questions.

Oh, God, she couldn't handle answering any questions. She grabbed hold of the sink basin, and stared in the mirror. Aside from the tiny cut on her lip, which would heal itself in no time, and the shading beneath her eyes (evidence to the lack of sleep she'd been enduring) there was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen.

So why the hell did she feel like she was staring at a stranger?

Three days. Three average, unassuming days. That was all the time that had passed since Thane's death. Three days of breathing air that felt too dense. Three days of avoiding her bed, in favor of staring at it most of the night from the couch. Three days of doing absolutely _nothing_ to pay the man she loved even an ounce of respect after his death, besides having him shoved into storage.

Like any other soldier. As if she hadn't spent countless hours mapping the dips and falls of his skin, learning the subtle variation in color along his scales. As if she hadn't whispered words in his ear that she'd never spoken to another – not like that at least.

Three days, and he was deposited like any other in a generic body bag.

And three days was all it took for her to screw someone else. To attack her best friend. Her best friend who was very likely in love with her (he hadn't said the words, but they hung between them all the same). To practically beg him to sleep with her; ignoring his initial reticence, and plying him until he gave in.

To throw him out when it was done.

The bile that rose up in her throat came swift, and violently, and she was on her knees hugging the toilet before she'd barely had time to blink.

Oh yeah, she was an absolute bastion of humankind. If she was the best they had to offer, she truly felt pity for her entire species.

Eventually, she managed to stand up again, and rinse out her mouth. Slow and deliberate, letting the mint flavor of the toothpaste overtake all the others on her tongue, and at the back of her throat; rinsing it all out with more icy water, enjoying the sharp ache that pierce the sensitized nerves along her gums.

When she was finished, she stood, staring at the door that led back to the main part of her cabin. Enough time had gone by now, that she felt it would be safe to exit into her room, unclothed as she was. Didn't stop the sting of fear that she felt when the door slide open, or for hating herself for feeling so relieved that he had understood, and gotten out of there before she was finished.

How much he had understood, however, well..that was something else entirely. Did he get that the panic she had felt wasn't his doing, but her own? That he hadn't done anything wrong?

She reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, trying to relieve the dull ache growing swiftly behind her eyes.

Emotionally and physically drained, she dropped into her desk chair, hissing when her bare legs brushed against the hard fabric. Her eyes were drawn unerringly to the photo that adorned her desk: a picture of her and Thane down at Kasumi's bar, taken just after the Collector's base had been destroyed. One of her arms was looped around his neck, while one of his was curled behind her back and pressed into her hip. Both of them held had colorful concoctions in their free hands, and she was smiling like a loon at the camera. Thane's mouth (that soft, slightly spicy mouth that had drawn her in time, and time again) was lifted in a more reserved grin, but the happiness that they both felt at the time was undeniable.

Her lip quivered and she made a decision, hitting the comm button on her desk. "Joker. Set course for the Citadel. There's someone I need to see."

Joker's response was swift, and empty of any of his typical back-and-forth hilarity. If it it hadn't been obvious before that her crew was on pins and needles around her, it was now. "Sure thing, Commander. ETA: approximately 18.5 hours."

"Thanks, Joker. Shepard out." She allowed herself barely a second of slumped shoulders, letting some of the weight that had been crushing her as late ease. Forward progress was good.

With that hurdle passed, she switched on her personal terminal, and logged into the extranet. There were some customs that she needed to read up on before they arrived. Her conscience twinged a bit: she should have taken the time long before Thane past to learn about these sorts of things, and to figure out his wishes. Why hadn't she ever asked?

Then again, why hadn't he offered?

Guilt rocketed back to the front her mind almost the moment that the thought crossed it. She knew why he hadn't offered. It was _because_ she hadn't asked. She'd been so knee-deep in dealing with the Collector's and making sure everyone survived the unsurvivable, that she had very effectively blocked all thoughts of Kepral's Syndrome from her mind.

And even after he had died, what had she spent her time doing? Ignoring the difficult task of dealing with his...final disposal, that's what. And God, it was awful to think of it that way. But she had no better way to define it. She had no clue what drell preferred – did they engage in burial's? That seemed unlikely given the small amount of land on Kahje. Did they go in for cremations. What? Shepard had absolutely no clue.

Instead, she had spent her time chasing after petty mercs, stolen eezo, and having sex with her best friend on the floor of her cabin.

_Damn it, what kind of a person does that?_ Shepard had no idea anymore.

Perhaps if she focused on this task, focused on learning more about the drell, and the religion that Thane held so close to his heart, she wouldn't be able to dwell on the multitude of ways that she had managed to dishonor Thane's memory, or abused her friendship with Garrus, in the last few hours.

Maybe she'd hate herself a little less that way.

* * *

~~~\/~~~

* * *

The forward battery wasn't the most cheerful of locations, but Garrus found it soothing nonetheless.

The subtle throb of guns beneath deck, the quiet trill of the machines running through their processes. Even the warmth that the facilities exuded had its calming effects; reminded him of Palaven schools with their dark interior rooms (the better at which to complete drills). It was one of the main reasons Garrus had spent so much time there once he'd joined back up with Shepard.

His stress levels had been through the roof back then – gunships and traitorous bastards could do that to a guy. And between the joy that he got from fixing things (he'd never admit it to her, but he actually loved it when ever she completely wrecked the Mako back on the old Normandy; it gave him such an intense amount of satisfaction to get it up and running every time - for the good of the crew's bones though, he'd made sure not to encourage her) the familiar setting, and all of the meditative qualities he found in running through calibrations - it had been the ideal place to take up as a semi-permanent residence.

Unfortunately, it was doing a piss-poor job right now.

He pounded his fist down, hard, on the console. It made a buzzing sound, and the light flickered as it powered down. "Damn it!" He let his head hang down, and reached out to grab the railing on either side of the console with both hands, taking in deep, metallic tasting breaths.

His brain refused to shut off, denying him any chance to improve his emotional stability. And his hands seemed to be prone to shakes. Especially when his mind would wander into recall mode, and force him to revisit the day in his head.

He was damn grateful that he didn't have a drell's eidetic memory. He couldn't fathom how difficult it must be to be forced into re-watching your past deeds against your will. Garrus didn't think that the upside of seeing happy times whenever you wished couldn't possibly balance that out, of course, that might have been because the rough moments in life always seemed to weigh on him more than the good.

At any other point in time, he might have wondered what that said about him as person. He figured that at the very least, Chambers could have a field day analyzing it all.

Once his blood had cooled (hell, it had basically frozen solid when Shepard flinched from him back in her cabin – and was that really only an hour ago?) he could look at the situation with more objectivity. Which was something that needed to happen, even if the very idea of revisiting the memory was distasteful at the moment.

He refused to lie to himself and pretend as if he'd thought that she had wanted _him_. He'd known better, even while it was happening. Sure, physically she'd been interested. There was no denying that. She'd responded to his touch in ways that he never would have envisioned. (And he had..._envisioned_ it before. It was impossible to have not, surrounded by her everywhere he went, and with virtually no outlet for release. Or at least, no suitable one.) But even that wasn't really due to him.

He'd engaged in some self-flagellation after he'd first learned of her and Thane, and spent more time than he would admit – even to himself – trolling the extranet for information he assumed he'd never put to use. So while he wasn't entirely in the dark regarding what sex with a human entailed – hell, it had fueled more than a few of those visions – he also was self-aware enough to know that his schoolboy level fumbling was hardly the source of Shepard's reactions upstairs.

While he was more than confident when it came to members of his own species, there were enough differences between turians and humans that he couldn't be entirely sure of what he was doing in her cabin, and he'd had to act mostly based off of her response. And her response, while somewhat vocal and more than just a bit physically gratifying (if he spent too long thinking on that alone, his blood would surely heat to volcanic levels), was not really due to _him_, or even what he'd been doing _to her. _No, no it was grief, pure and simple.

And he felt disgusted with himself for not having possessed more self-control.

Hell, his species was _known_ for its discipline the universe over. No other species held that moniker, and for good reason. Turians knew how to fall in line. They were trained for it from practically infancy. It was in his blood, his bones.

But if he had learned anything in the last few years, it was that he was a _reaaally_ awful turian.

He could blame the utter loss of his self-control on so many things. Could blame it on his long-stint of celibacy, unintended though it might have been. Could blame it on the fact that he was worried about her, and wanted her to show any evidence that she wasn't going to get herself killed the next time they were planetside. Could blame it on the fact that he'd spent more time than was healthy watching her and Thane interact out of the corner of his eyes – beating himself up for not having spoken up sooner. Dwelling on the 'what if's' and the 'if only's'.

He could blame it on the fact that she was warm, and soft, and so intensely _receptive _to the slightest touch. Could blame it on the fact that she had looked so down-right desperate in his arms, or the sound of the word 'please' slipping past her lips.

He could blame it on all of that; but it wouldn't make a damn lick of difference. The fact of the matter was that there was no justification for the lack of self-control. None. In the end it had boiled down to one, undeniable thing.

_He'd wanted her._ His emotions for her were so strong, and he'd held them in check for so long, that he simply hadn't wanted to any more.

Everything else, well, it was just an excuse.

And those excuses were ridiculously paper-thin. She'd been hurt. Grieving. _Vulnerable_. And his actions were anything but acceptable, or excusable. If he hadn't cleared out the ship's supply of turian ale weeks before, when Thane had first fallen unconscious, he would have pounded several back by now.

It would have been less destructive than occasionally punching various parts of the forward battery. And at the very least, it would have helped to drown out the guilty thoughts echoing around his skull. Echoing in tandem with the enticingly recent memories of her body wrapped around his. The sound of her breathy cries; the feel of her blunt nails raking down his plates...he was helpless to stop his body's reaction to the thoughts, despite the resounding guilt that they evoked within him.

Without any of the mind-numbing ale, he was left entirely sober, and stuck within these own rotating thoughts, and inevitably, those thoughts would fall back onto what it was that Shepard had wanted. Or, rather, _why_ she had wanted it...had to wonder about her own motivations, for, well...everything.

He'd been around Shepard when she'd lost people before. Or, more specifically when she'd lost Kaidan. True, that relationship had never really gotten off the ground, and he knew that her feelings for Thane were light-years past what she'd felt for the biotic. (Hell, he'd sat talking with her on enough occasions that she had made that abundantly clear, even if the words hadn't specifically been said.) But, it was reasonable to assume that a person's grief would manifest similarly each time, albeit at different levels of intensity.

And she'd never so much as hugged him voluntarily after Kaidan had died. Used him as a pillow once or twice, but that hadn't even been intentional. There had be no physical manifestation of her grief. She'd drawn herself inward back then. (He'd practically had to peel her out of her self-imposed exile before they'd reached Ilos.) And maybe she'd been just a tad more reckless on missions in the weeks that had followed. (Though, she'd never reached suicidal levels.) But she'd never once approached him, or anyone else as far as he was aware, for a physical outlet.

Best he could figure, that was something entirely unique to this situation.

So his brain kept on churning, and he couldn't stop himself from wondering if what had transpired upstairs - her kiss - her pressing him into the couch, and everything that followed; wasn't the direct result of his own confession. That was the only variable that he could see.

How much of what happened upstairs was due to grief, and how much of it was due to pity? Did she somehow feel responsible for his own unrequited emotions? Or was she just utilizing that as an excuse? Had there been any conscious thought regarding any of that on her part, or had she truly just been grief stricken?

In short - did the responsibility for what had transpired rest squarely on his shoulders, or did some of it lay on hers as well?

How awful of a person was he?

The sound of metal sparking against metal as his talons dug into the railing caused an unpleasant ringing noise within his ears.

~~~\/~~~

When they finally docked at the Citadel, nearly a full Normandy day-night cycle after he'd left her cabin, Shepard granted the entire crew a day of shore leave. And though she didn't say a word to any of the squad about where she was going, or why they were there, it was blindingly obvious to Garrus what her intentions were. And he couldn't help but feel relief that she had taken that step.

This was good. Being here, dealing with Thane's death even peripherally, was good.

But when she chose to disembark at the Citadel on her own, he knew that there was no way in hell that he was going to let her.

Garrus was unsurprised that he hadn't seen nor heard from her during the duration of their trip, and was rather grateful, truth be told. His own thoughts were still too muddled to deal with hers as well right then. There were too many unanswered questions lying between them, and none of them was he comfortable dealing with at the moment.

But no matter the level of his discomfort, he wasn't about to let her go off to meet with Kolyat alone. Even if he had to slink in the shadows to do so. If his recollection of the boy from their last meeting was anything to go on, he doubted that this would be a stress-free event, and wanted to be there in case things turned sour.

For Shepard's sake.

He'd waited what he'd _thought _was a respectable amount of time to start tailing her off of the ship. They'd been to the Citadel often enough that he knew how long it usually took to get through security, and he had planned to grill Bailey on her whereabouts once he'd gotten to that point. But she never gave him the opportunity.

He'd barely made it through the initial portion of security before Shepard called him out, "You make an excellent sniper, Garrus. But you'd be a _really_ awful thief." The smile she gave him was strained. "Might want to hit Kasumi up for some training tips."

He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, beneath his fringe, feeling foolish. "How long did you know I was there?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, and leaned back on one foot conveying an air of ease that he doubted she really felt (the tired look on her face was hard to hide). "Since right around when you disembarked from the Normandy. Your armor makes this sort of clacking sound when you walk, and you didn't wait nearly long enough to follow after me."

"Oh. Heh, guess I didn't really think this through." He popped his neck, trying to ease some of the tension that had appeared almost simultaneously with her first words. "Look - I know that this isn't going to be the most enjoyable meeting for you, so I thought-"

"Yeah. Okay."

Garrus was taken aback. "Okay?" He hadn't expected it to be quite so easy.

"That's what I said. Rather have you out in the open then pretending to trail me. Come on. Bailey told me that I can find Kolyat down near the shipping warehouse."

The trip to the warehouse was blissfully brief, and conversation free. Shepard tried to keep her eyes facing forward, and her stance relaxed, but Garrus could tell the amount of effort it was taking. When comfortable, Shepard had a tendency to _fiddle_. Whether it would be with her fingers, or her gun, or the latches of her armor, she was just constantly in motion. This would spill over into conversation, and she would always be rocking on her heels, or adjusting her unruly hair. But when she was tense, she'd stand in that 'at ease' position typical of Alliance soldiers. It conveyed the appearance of relaxation, while still allowing her to remaining on guard.

That was the position she was in the whole time they waited for the transport vehicle; once on board she focused her gaze outside. Garrus was more than thankful, as he still wasn't sure what would be an acceptable discussion to have right then.

Kolyat turned out to be exactly where Bailey had said he would cataloging the contents of a recently confiscated shipment of crates. Garrus lingered behind when Shepard approached the young man, but stayed close enough to see the drell's dark eyes dart behind her, looking for the missing member of their party. Garrus could understand, Shepard traveling without Thane was almost unheard of out on the battlefield, and he knew that she had never once had cause to speak with Kolyat without his father's presence before.

Kolyat blinked at Shepard (her back to Garrus so that he couldn't make out the look upon her face) frozen where he stood with a datapad in his hand. The echo in his voice was somewhat dulled, if that was even possible. "My father?"

Garrus watched as Shepard shook her head, her voice soft. "I'm sorry, Kolyat."

He lowered his head, nodding. Resigned. "Me too."

From his vantage point, Garrus could tell has some of the tension in her shoulders washed away. "There's some things that I'd like to talk with you about. If you got some time?"

Those large eyes blinked once again. "Yeah, sure." He tossed the datapad on the nearest crate. "I'm just about due for a break."

"Good. Let's go get something to eat." Shepard smiled tightly, "Garrus...?"

"Thanks for the offer, Commander, but I think I'll pass." Garrus hadn't been sure exactly what to expect, but Thane's son clearly wasn't the same bitter, and argumentative boy that he had been the last time they had crossed paths. He wasn't about to tear into Shepard when she was still emotionally drained. It wouldn't be fair to the either of them for Garrus to tag along for such a private conversation.

"You sure?" For once, Garrus wasn't able to decipher the look on her face. Was that relief, or resignation?

"I am." He nodded his head and turned to leave, stopping midway through. "Kolyat, your father...he was a good man."

Even if Garrus hadn't meant it, the thankful expression that Shepard gave him would have been reason enough to say it.

* * *

~~~\/~~~

* * *

The Normandy ended up being docked at the Citadel for nearly a week. Much to the crew's delight. She'd given them an extended shore leave, with the understanding that all systems on the Normandy should be reviewed for any deficiencies and dealt with while they were at the major port as well. Needless to say, the Normandy was practically shining within a day. Her crew certainly was a determined bunch.

Shepard had met with Kolyat for several hours both that first day, and the second, in order to discuss options regarding the sort of arrangements that could be made for Thane. Including te possibility of returning his body to Kahje. Something that from what Shepard had researched, seemed to be ideal.

Thane was – _had been_ – highly spiritual. He spent an immense number of hours in contemplation, or meditation, or in prayer. At first, it had been something of a joke to Shepard. While outwardly she had put forth the understanding face of a Commander, his belief in Gods (of which their were multiple) had made little sense to her.

But as she'd gotten to know him better, as she had learned to not fill every spare second with empty talk, but just to enjoy the silent contemplation of life by his side, she learned to see the beauty in his faith. Even if she couldn't share in it, she had learned to respect it. And she'd learned to appreciate how at the end of a mission, he would pray to _Kalihira_ for those who he killed, and ask for forgiveness for his sins – rather than be annoyed by it, as she had initially been.

Shepard's research into drell funeral rites themselves hadn't been entirely fruitful, however (she was alternatively glad and irritated by Thane's lack of communication on the topic - if he had made his wishes clear, it might have made things infinitely easier now, but would certainly have depressed her greatly then) she had found some information.

Mostly, it seemed that since their Compact with the hanar, the drell preferred to have their bodies delivered back on to the sea, where they could become reincorporated with the planet. That felt..._right _to her. It had made sense to her that he would be returned to Kahje. She couldn't count the number of times she had heard him utter the phrase, 'return to the sea' when taking a life, after all.

Kolyat was reluctant to do so, however. It seemed to Shepard that the boy was almost afraid of returning to that world, though she didn't say so to him. The way he bristled and fought off recalling memories from that place was answer enough. Their discussion had reached an impasse within hours. Stuck with Shepard wanting to make sure that Thane's body was given the kind of respect the man deserved, and balancing out Kolyat's reluctance. In the end, it was a hanar that Kolyat had befriended in the Wards that gave them an acceptable solution.

Like many of the species with large populations on the Citadel, the hanar had co-opted a ward onto themselves. The area had been retrofitted to include deep basins of water in addition to the more typical housing and market elements, and was stylized to be somewhat reminiscent of the hanar homeworld. Shepard had been surprised to learn that despite the threat of Kepral's Syndrome, several drell had taken up residence in the area as well - albeit on a less permanent basis. And while Kolyat lived in a predominantly human ward on the Citadel, apparently one located in close proximity to where Mouse had taken up residence, he also frequented the hanar ward.

So a compromise was reached. While Thane's body couldn't truly be 'returned to the sea' while on the the Citadel, but at the very least, they could perform the symbolic act of releasing his body into the water, before it would be removed and - for lack of a better term - vaporized; like most of the dead were on board the enclosed structure. It was far from ideal, but Kolyat was comfortable with the scenario, so Shepard forced herself to be as well.

The actual ceremony was rather subdued, and a bit elegant. Of the Normandy crew, there were only a handful in attendance, though the entire squad was there (despite the obvious level of discomfort some members, notably Jack and Grunt, displayed). Shepard suspected that Garrus had a great deal to do with everyone showing up. She hadn't even bothered to pass word around, so caught up in the particular's herself (just how do yo go about inviting people to something like that?), that she couldn't think of any other way that word got out.

Not that she had actually _told _Garrus either, but the fact that he knew wasn't a terribly big surprise. Just because he had left her to her meetings with Kolyat in private after that first time, didn't mean that he had stopped keeping tabs on her. Normally, that sort of thing would have pissed her off greatly, and have lead to a confrontation where she pulled rank in order to get him to back off, but she couldn't work up the energy to be angry at him for it his time. Not when her own feelings for him felt so distorted.

So the ceremony took place on the fourth day that the Normandy was docked at the Citadel; with one hanar, and two drell overseeing the event – a mish-mash of Thane's own polytheistic beliefs, and some of Kolyat's own preferences (borrowed heavily from the hanar) paying tribute to him more with long silences than with words. A dozen awkward soldiers stood in a half-circle around the pool, with Chakwas, Joker, and Kelly situated nearby.

Shepard thought that it suited Thane perfectly.

She had the Normandy remain at the Citadel for only twelve hours after the ceremony was complete. Just long enough to sort out Thane's few possessions with Kolyat before heading out. The boy had boarded the Normandy with some reluctance, but eventually spent several hours quietly sitting in the same chair that Thane had often occupied in life support. The visage of him there had given Shepard an oddly comforting sense of _déjà vu_.

That night, she managed to sleep soundly in the bed her and Thane had shared for the first time since he'd lost consciousness weeks before.

Things weren't perfect, but she knew that it was a start.

~~~\/~~~

The doors to the forward battery had never looked so daunting before. They were just doors afterall. Same as all the other doors around the ship, so really, they had no business causing her emotions to be in flux like they were. Shepard had stood staring at them for nearly five minutes, and figured she must look like a fool to any crew member that wandered by, but still, she hadn't been able to will her body any closer.

It had been almost two weeks since Thane's funeral, and progress was swiftly being made by the team in regards to the Collector base data. Shepard doubted it would be much longer before they'd have something solid to go on. It as both exhilarating, and down-right frightening. And it made her feel alive in only the way that an upcoming battle could.

In the meantime, she was attempting to deal with the massive back-log of requests from all over known space. Considering the monumental failure that the botched eezo recovering mission had been, she'd taken things a bit more slowly this time. (Much to the annoyance of Grunt and Jack, who both seemed to be itching at the bit for a good fight.)

So far, they'd delivered a package to Liara on Illium (who continued to promise results 'soon, Shepard, soon' without actually delivering) and responded to a request by Mordin's old assistant Daniel on Omega; who was in need of the doctor's assistance to replicate a series of antibodies for a mutated version of the batarian flu. Nothing dangerous, but it was forcing them to stay in one place for a while.

While most of the crew was eager for downtime at Afterlife (its possible that she might have spoiled them with all of the shore leave she'd given the at the Citadel), some wanted nothing to do with the lawless station. One of the latter was standing behind the doors of the forward battery, and was the source of Shepard's trepidation.

They needed to talk. Every day that past without the two of them speaking directly to one another, was like a knife being twisted in a wound for Shepard. He'd been there, all throughout the proceedings for Thane's funeral, silent, steady. His oft-spoken words of 'there when you need me' reverberating between them, despite the lack of conversation.

And she was thankful, oh-so-thankful for him. Glad that he was there, like he'd always been. Despite everything that had happened between them.

But the silence hadn't abated after the funeral. She wasn't sure if she was really expecting it too or not; wasn't sure if she was expecting everything to go back to normal once it was all said and done, but a part of her – a tiny, very loud part – had hoped that it would. For no other reason than because she was scared; and she absolutely detested that feeling.

She took a deep breath, _suck it up, Shepard_, and opened the doors.

~~~\/~~~

Garrus paused at his station, but didn't turn. A second passed and his hand moved swiftly over the console, continuing whatever he'd been working on. "Need something, Commander?"

"You got a minute?"

"Can it wait for a bit? I'm in the middle of some calibrations."

Shepard snorted, the conversation so familiar as to be ludicrous. Rather than interrupting, she moved to one of the crates in the corner, and got as comfortable as she could while watching him at work. He hesitated at first, nearly looking at her, but then he seemed to accept her presence and continued.

It was calming, watching him there. This was a situation that had repeated itself often enough before. There seemed to be no end to the amount of calibrations and adjustments that he had to do on the weapons systems. All his efforts had obviously paid off, considering how well the Thanix Cannon had performed in battle. And yet here he still was - working tirelessly on the systems he'd installed – day-after-day. Giving them constant attention to make sure they wouldn't cave under pressure.

Not entirely unlike they way he looked after her.

She'd done him a disservice, that day in her bedroom. But she was certain he didn't really get why. It had taken her time to figure the whole thing out herself, and she still wasn't entirely sure. But she couldn't delay it much longer. Time was going to start running out, and the two of them needed to be comfortable around each other. She'd had a chance to evaluate her life recently. Kind of been forced to, and she was starting to figure out what was and was not acceptable. And the distance between her and her best friend was not. Not if she wanted to keep a firm grasp of her sanity throughout the rest of this damn war.

What she had been able to figure out, based on the sidelong looks she could catch, the tension that his body held whenever they were in proximity to one another was what he _might_ have thought had been the reason for her behavior that day; and she could only come up with one thing.

"It wasn't pity."

Garrus' hand froze over the controls. "What?"

"I said: 'it wasn't pity'. I know that you think that it was, but I'm telling you that it wasn't."

He heaved out a breath, and started up on his task once more. "Look, Shepard, you don't have to-"

She stood from the crate and took a step forward, "Yes I do, Garrus. I miss my friend." His head shot up from the console, shock evident in every part of his face. "I've-I've got gaps, huge holes where people use to be. Every day the edges smooth out, but the space is still there. And I can't handle having one shaped like you too."

His uninjured mandible fluttered. "I'm not going anywhere, Shepard."

"But you already have."

He shook his head. Confusion evident in the way he held his jaw, and the wide look to his eyes. "What do you mean?"

She turned her body so that she was facing the doors, and leaned her back against the railing. "We've barely spoken, except when absolutely necessary, since we returned from the Citadel. I'm not saying that I don't get why. This is awkward. But _I miss you_, Garrus. And if talking about this is going to help set things back to the way they were, then that's what we have to do."

He blinked at her, with those alien eyes that revealed so much more emotion than she ever would have presumed. He pulled his mandibles in tightly to the sides of his face, and clacked a couple more buttons on the console - shutting it down. "Fine." He leaned one hip against the console, angling his body towards hers. It looked stiff, and awkward, but she could tell that he was trying for relaxed. It was more reassuring than she'd have thought it would be.

Maybe that was why his next statement caught her off guard, despite the fact that it shouldn't have. "What was it then?"

"Huh?"

"You said it wasn't pity. So what was it?"

* * *

~~~\/~~~

* * *

Garrus watched her whole body tense at his question. Obviously, she'd not expected him to chose that route. Probably figured he'd want to skip the awkward parts and get right to the...what? He really had no idea. Everything was awkward right now.

She sucked a breath through her teeth, "Okay. That's fair."

Garrus looked away, he was curious - how could he not be? He'd been dwelling on this exact topic practically non-stop, since the whole thing had happened. Alternately chastising himself for his actions, and questioning her reasoning – because she was Shepard. And he had a hard time wrapping his brain around the concept that she might do something _without _a reason. But he was also concerned that he'd permanently destroyed their friendship, and if giving her an out from a conversation that she quite clearly wasn't as prepared for as she'd thought would save what little friendship they had left, then so be it. "Like I said, Shepard. We really don't have to do this."

She didn't speak for long enough that Garrus was starting to get antsy. He shifted his weight in place and took a moment to observe her.

She looked...better. The dark circles that had been beneath her eyes for the past month had mostly cleared; and while she wasn't exactly relaxed, she didn't seem as withdrawn as before. Hell, she had come down here voluntarily, so if that didn't say worlds about the improvement of her mental state, he didn't know what would. He decided to tell her so at precisely the same time as she decided to answer.

"You look - " "I wanted - "

They both laughed, the tension easing a bit, if not broken.

Shepard gestured to Garrus, "You go first." It was an obvious stall tactic, but he figured she'd earned it.

"You're looking better." There was a little smile on her face, and it warmed him just like it always had.

"Thanks. Hadn't realized I was looking so bad before."

Garrus cocked his head at her. "Now that's just a lie, and we both know it. You'd barely slept most nights."

The look on her face was skeptical. "Been spying, Garrus? Here I thought that was more EDI and Joker's thing."

The blue orb at the AI's console light the room in its soft glow. "Commander Shepard, I do not spy. I merely monitor all ship-wide areas for evidence of any developing situations or complications."

Garrus bit back a laugh.

"Way to prove my point, EDI."

"Commander, I believe that you have misunderstood-"

"That'll be all, EDI."

"Understood, Commander." If it was possible for the AI to be affronted, then that was what Garrus thought she was at the moment.

Garrus couldn't help but find her exasperated tone, and the way that she rolled her eyes at the AI, all a bit charming. It was good to see some of the color returning to her personality. Nothing was the same without it. "Not spying, Commander. Observing. I can usually tell when you haven't been sleeping."

Shepard turned in a mirror of his position. The interface on Garrus' visor told him that she was 1.75 meters away. He flicked the thing off, not wanting the influx of info at the moment. "Mmm. Like you can tell when I'm in need of chocolate."

"Or coffee."

"Well, that's a given. I can always use more coffee."

"I mean it though, Shepard. You seem like you've been sleeping better."

She nodded, her eyes focused on something not him for a minute. "Its a work in progress."

Her distraction gave him another chance to study her; to take in all of the little nuances that made her unique. The set of her shoulders, and how she rolled them back. The line where her jaw met her neck, and how the muscle there twitched somewhat every few seconds. Stared at the hairs that lined the lids over her eyes – causing his thoughts to flash back to the only time he'd ever seen them wet with tears, and the sense of dread that had unearthed in him. His voice had lowered an octave by the time he managed to make himself speak. "I get that."

She shifted her gaze back to him, her own voice calm, steady. "I know." She paused, gaze locked on his. "So, now I think its my turn, right?"

He shrugged, hoping that his eagerness to hear what she had to say wouldn't be too apparent. Though, if she could read him half as well as she claimed..."If you want. No pressure."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why?"

"You've lost me, Shepard. I thought you were answering the questions now. Why what?"

She pressed off the railing with her hip, and paced towards the door. "Why 'no pressure'? I know what you've been thinking, Garrus. Just like you can tell when I haven't been sleeping, I can tell when you think something is your fault." She stuck a finger out at him, in a gesture he'd seen her give countless mercs who pissed her off in the past, "And, none of this is your fault. You deserve an explanation, and I just don't get why you don't think you do."

Garrus steeled himself, nothing ever gets done by sitting on your ass after all. If they were going to clear the air, then things needed to be said. "Oh, I don't know. How about the fact that I took advantage of you when you were vulnerable?"

"You didn't-"

"_I did_. There's no getting around that."

She shook her head, and looked back at him once more. "You _didn't_. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I'm a big girl, Garrus. And I knew what I was doing." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to interject, and he acquiesced. "I can't pretend like I had thought it all the way through to the end, 'cause obviously I didn't. You were there, you know that. But, at that exact point in time, it was what I wanted."

"So it wasn't pity, because it could have been anyone." Garrus felt more than a little sick at the idea.

"What? No! No. Absolutely not. Good God, if anyone else had shown up at my door they wouldn't have made it across the landing, Garrus. Hell, there's a better than average possibility that I would have slugged them for trying."

"You would have shot them? That's a little extreme, Commander. Even for you."

"Huh? No - punch. Slug means punch. In this case at least. But I guess if they pissed me off enough..." She smiled, a little half-smile, and Garrus wished that his stomach didn't practically flip at the sight. He was no better off now than he was before, he didn't think he ever would be. But at least they were talking.

"It had to be you, Garrus. I was messed up." She huffed out a breath. "I'm _still_ a little messed up. I've never - Thane was important to me. Still is. And its been a bit of a roller-coaster for me emotionally." The analogy went over Garrus' head, but he got the general gist of it. "So no, it wasn't the best call - I can see that now. But not for the reasons you think."

He swallowed, not entirely sure where she was going with this, and not daring to hope for any particular outcome.

"You think you took advantage of me? Well, I thought the same." Again he felt the need to interject, and again, she wouldn't let him. "I knew how you felt, Garrus. Even if you hadn't just told me, I - I think I already knew. And damn it, Garrus! There hasn't ever been anyone that I've felt so comfortable around before you."

His shock must have registered on his face, because she laughed. "Honestly, you can't be all that surprised. You've had my six from the beginning. Yanked me out of more tough spots than I can count, even if I'm trying to beat you senseless for doing so." She shot him a self-deprecating glare, and he was once again glad that she was so easy to read. "And no matter what, you're loyalty has never wavered. Never been in doubt. You've always been there for me.

"So I needed something then, something that I wouldn't have wanted from anyone else, and I took it – _because_ it was you. I took advantage because I knew you wouldn't say no. And for that I'm sorry."

_Sorry? _He couldn't fathom her apologizing for anything, not considering how long he had spent brewing on the fact that she hadn't been - couldn't have been - the one at fault. For anything. He swallowed and let his eyes drop away from her, trying to process everything. Which is likely why he didn't notice her crossing the distance and laying a hand across the top of his until it actually happened. Abruptly, he tore his eyes back to her face. Surprised by how close she was.

"But, I'm not sorry that it happened. Sorry about the way that it happened, yes. Sorry about the when? Yeah - timing could have been better. And I'm sorry for how I reacted afterward. That was pretty shitty. But in the long-run? I'm glad that it happened."

Garrus felt like his heart was beating out of his chest. The implications - well, they were making his head spin. His throat felt dry, and his tongue heavy like metal. But he didn't want to assume..."What are you saying here, Shepard?"

She glanced down and sighed, before meeting his eyes once more. Her hand overly warm where it rested on his. He couldn't recall a time when she had ever done such a thing before. Just _touched_ him like that. "I'm not saying that I'm ready for...its, its too soon."

He felt like an idiot for having let any kind of hope take root inside. Her next words stunned him though, and that hope came burning back hot like the Palaven sun.

"But, I am open to the possibility. Is that..." She licked her lips, and his entire attention was drawn to her mouth for that microscopic second. "Is that alright?"

All of the information she'd just dropped on him was spinning circles around his head. She trusted him - still! Despite what had happened. She was willing - no - she _wanted_ to consider pursuing something with him, but, it was still too soon. She wasn't ready. Not yet. Not yet...

And_ Spirits be damned_, but he couldn't douse the desire that caught flame. Couldn't drown out the flickering idea that maybe, just maybe, there could be a future between them. Something more than what they'd always had in the past, and beyond anything he'd ever thought could be possible. There was the worry, of course, that she was still grieving - hell, he **knew** that she was. She'd said as much herself. But this didn't sound like something built on grief. No. This sounded like quintessential Shepard. As if it was something that she had spent a great deal of time thinking on, strategizing around...and yet she still seemed so unsure. Tentative, even. What if...

Damn it all, he was tired of thinking.

He nodded, and turned his hand over under her's, so they were resting palm to palm. "Yeah. That's more than alright."

~The last part to come soon! Promise!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last part of this one, folks! This has undergone extensive revisions from its original kinkmeme form, and I think it is all the better for it. And still, I think it manages to keep all of the required elements from the prompt intact. So bonus! Tons of thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this, I sincerely thank you, and really hope that you enjoy the conclusion. And a big shout out to whoever the Anon was that gave me this prompt to begin with. You are awesome :-D (Also, there may be a teeny-tiny Joss Whedon dialogue reference in here, if you notice it, yay for you!)

**Three Months Later**

Hell in a handbasket.

That was the current situation that the Normandy crew found themselves in. The Reapers had finally decided to make themselves known, and Shepard and company were nearly three-quarters of the way through a strategic sabotage of one of them. A sabotage, which at the bare minimum, would take out one particular Reaper; but if things worked out they way they hoped, it would have a lasting impact on all other Reapers within its network.

Simply put, if this worked, they'd be able to take out almost a quarter of the Reaper threat in one well-aimed shot.

The prospect gave Shepard a rather tingly feeling.

The Reaper 'fleet' (for lack of a better term) had finally made a push into the Terminus System just days prior, and while the Council _still _had their heads so far up their asses as to be debating the 'proper' course of action, Shepard and her crew knew that something had to be done, and quickly. The whole thing was, frankly, old hat to her by now.

"Legion! We got an ETA yet? Its getting a bit thick with drones in here!"

"Negative, Shepard-Commander. We've encountered an unexpected delay in bypassing the mainframe's systems. We will update you as soon as new information is available."

Legion was one brilliant platform inhabited by 1,183 geth programs; between him, EDI, and Tali – and the whole the crew of the Normandy to be fair – this little invasion was made possible. As another particle beam obliterated part of the wall by Shepard's head, however, she _really _wished he would get a move on. "For the love of-! All due haste, Legion! Got that?"

"Of course, Shepard-Commander."

Once the beam cut off, Shepard twisted to her left to observe her attacker – an assassin oh-so-inconveniently blocking her exit; she activated her comm unit again. "Hey, Garrus? Can you get a bead on this bastard at my ten from your perch? He's got me blocked."

"Got 'em, Commander." The cool dual-toned voice that slipped through the comm was almost simultaneously accompanied by the assassin's head gaining a sizable hole, and thudding to the deck with a thick sounding smack.

"Scratch one!"

Shepard gave herself a split-second to laugh, before she shrugged it off and launched out into the open, making a quick beeline over towards Zaeed – who was dealing with far too many drones to be healthy. "Knew I kept you around for a reason, Garrus."

"Only the one, huh? I'll have to keep that in mind." The playful edge to his words made very inappropriate thoughts dance through Shepard's head. There was no time for any further banter at that moment, however, as Zaeed was in serious danger of being overpowered. His head popped up to take a double shot at a drone not more than five feet in front of his cover.

"Little help over here!" The man sounded more annoyed than hurt, which was a good sign.

"Keep your pants on, Zaeed!" She took out three already mostly whittled down drones on her way to the merc's hiding-hole; gaining the two of them a few moments to discuss strategy for getting the hell off the damn Reaper. She slide into position next to him, and gave him a sardonic smile. "Miss me?"

He snorted, "Like syphilis. Now, we gonna figure out how to get off this damn boat, or are we gonna play patty-cake?"

"Read my mind, Zaeed."

Shepard wished it could have been Harbinger that they had boarded. She would have loved nothing more than to take that thing out from the inside-out like she was certain he – it, whatever – would like to do to her. But beggars couldn't be choosers, and they had been forced to take the most easily accessible Reaper for this infiltration.

Hell, they'd been damn lucky that they had even gotten this chance in the first place.

And it really had been quite an incredible series of lucky breaks. First, her crew had managed to fully assess the destroyed Collector base data, including determining the most likely points of entry for the Reaper invasion. And they'd even managed to do so with weeks to spare.

It was Legion who had taken the first step forward and suggested a mode of initial attack akin to the 'reprogramming' that he'd prepared for the geth heretics (before Shepard had opted for the slightly messier explosion option). This particular reprogramming, by contrast, would combine the two. Allowing a fast-adapting subroutine to be installed into one of the Reaper mainframes. The routine, if it worked like it was hoped, would trigger a self-destruct sequence within the Reaper. And possibly, _just possibly_, cause a domino effect into any Reaper that was directly interfacing with the sabotaged one.

The routine was complicated enough that EDI had estimated it would take upwards of five and a half minutes for the Reapers to fully weed out and disable the program. By which time one hell of a dent could be made in their forces; all with only the Normandy and its crew being placed in the line of fire. Shepard liked those odds well enough to give the go ahead on the plan. (In truth, she was certain taking out just one Reaper at this juncture, and caring its ass back to the Citadel as 'proof' to the aforementioned heads up their asses Council, would be well worth the effort. If they could manage to take out even more? Well, that'd practically be a bonus.)

As it turned out, designing the routine was the easy part. Implementing it however, well, that was a vastly different undertaking all together. And it was where her luck started to falter.

For starters, it involved Shepard and her squad boarding an _active _Reaper. Without either them, or the Normandy, being noticed.

The amount of resources Shepard pillaged from unexplored planetary systems in order to make it all possible, likely would have been enough to have started a brand new civilization all on their own. (It had been exhausting, especially when their main probe supplier cut them off, claiming they no longer had enough to supply their other customers.) But, somehow they'd managed, and the cloaking devices on the Normandy – already experimental – had taken a cosmic leap forward in their design, allowing the ship to get close enough to a Reaper to permit boarding – without setting off any alarms.

Once on board, it was a matter of staying under the radar long enough to avoid any indoctrination attempts ("Mordin, tell me you got something brilliant up your sleeve for this one?" "Brilliant? Possibly. Immensely dangerous? Most certainly.") or attacks from angry occupants, and permit Legion enough time to install and activate the routine. Then they just had to get **off **the ship.

You know...the fun part.

It came as absolutely no surprise when they encountered a multitude of problems almost from the second they set foot on the damnable thing (and what felt like several hundred genetically engineered Protheans, and not a small amount of husks). Their personal cloaking devices (modified from Kasumi's and the Normandy's) had still managed to trigger some sort of silent alarm, forcing Shepard and her squad onto the offensive almost from the start, making the trek to the mainframe an extremely hazardous one.

They'd held out hope until the very last second that the whole thing would go off without a hitch. Thankfully, her squad was good at dealing with hitches. Shepard and company were nothing if not adaptable, and if blowing this thing sky high meant that her team was currently a bit cornered while they provided Legion with backup so he could do his thing, then so be it.

Having finished her tactical pow-wow with Zaeed, Shepard took stock of her surroundings, and darted back out onto the deck, overloading, and then plugging a drone in front of her several dozen times until it hit the grating, while Zaeed provided a bit of cover fire for both her, and Legion. (Garrus, was still safely sequestered away at his sniping post, and providing all of them with his specialty – head shots.)

Shepard was diving over a crate for cover, hoping like hell to catch her next enemy off guard, when her comm unit flared to life. "The hell you doing, Shepard! You're supposed to be flanking right, not charging to the left!"

"Its called improv, Zaeed. Look it up!" A spray of fire went over her head, singeing the fly-away hairs on her scalp. "Shit - motherfuc-" Once the flames cooled down, she jumped and sent a cryo-blast at the bastard, before emptying the last of her heat sink into it and its neighbor, and then ducking back into cover.

"Shepard-Commander. The viral software has been fully implemented. Approximately 3.5 minutes until destruction of structure."

"3.5! I thought we were supposed to have nearly six!"

"We were forced to bypass additional firewalls initiated as a result of the current attack, it has altered the estimated timeline." Shepard couldn't be sure, but she thought that the geth sounded apologetic.

She groaned. "Damn it! Understood, Legion. Unplug and lets get the hell back to the ship."

"Yes, Shepard-Commander."

"Zaeed! Garrus! Falling back. We're done here."

"'Bout damn time."

"Stuff a cork in it, Zaeed."

What she heard next made her blood freeze in her veins. "Might have bit of a problem here, Commander." That low-octave voice she knew as well as her own, sounded strained.

She tried to keep the rising panic out of her's when she responded. "What sort of a problem, Garrus?"

"Funny story. It looks like I just ran out of heat sinks. And there are...three, no, four, enemies blocking my exit. Got some **real** big guns, too."

"You still at your sniping post?" Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears, she barely heard his reply.

"Yeah. Complete with poorly planned exit strategy."

"Okay. Keep your head down, be there before you can blink." She took out the last of her own distractions, and belted in the direction of the lift - grabbing Zaeed's arm along the way. "Get Legion, and get the hell out of here. We'll be right behind you."

"Don't got to tell me twice."

Dire situation aside, she couldn't help but smile. "Of course not, you merc." He winked his good eye and took off towards Legion.

She pounded the button for the lift, cursing its slow climb. (_Is it a law of the universe that every elevator has to be this damn slow?_) As she reached the top, she banked to the left, and caught sight of Garrus' point. He wasn't kidding, they had him completely blocked in. But, she was in luck. (That was going to run out again, eventually. She just knew it.) They were all trying to get to him and not paying a damn bit of attention to her. Her fingers itched to riddle 'em with her SMG, but she was aware enough to not want to take any chances with Garrus behind the line. So she switched out to her assault rifle, and took aim.

Approximately 25 seconds later ("Commander, you have 1.75 minutes until destruct." "I know, EDI!") the enemies were down and she was through the room to Garrus. Who was limping heavily on approach and using the wall for support; one taloned hand was clasped tightly to his side, and the other was struggling to retrieve his fallen weapon from the ground.

"What the hell happened?" She raced to his side to help him stand as he let go of the wall, feeling the blood thrumming through her veins at the sight of him, wounded, _but alive_.

"Well, first I overloaded their weapons, next I tried tossing my gun at their heads, and then I got shot. Couple of times. After that I mostly cursed and bled."

_Shit._ She knew the only thing holding her together was battle adrenaline. It was a wonderful thing. "We can talk creative strategies for the next time you pull this shit later. For now, lets get the hell out of here."

"Aye, aye, Commander."

"EDI – I need an exit, on the double!"

"Of course, Commander." With those calm words, Shepard' omni-tool flared to life, and the two changed course for the nearest way out.

With Garrus breathing heavily, but still moving, Shepard had to cling to the hope that she still had a bit more luck left in her pocket.

~~~\/~~~

They made it back to the Kodiak with precisely 45 seconds to spare. She could feel the heat from the auto-destruct sequence through the grates of the deck as they cleared the Reaper, and got their asses on the shuttle. But she still couldn't let out a sigh of relief. Not with blue-blood staining her hands and dripping down her side from Garrus' wounds.

Once the Kodiak was rocketing back towards the Normandy – full speed ahead – Garrus dropped into one of the seats, **hard**, clutching at his side, and Shepard started digging through the supply packets stowed beneath the seats for more medi-gel. (_Why don't we stock more of these? It should be latched to every empty surface!_)

Her hands were shaking the entire time she searched. When she finally found a pack, and rushed back to him, her whole body was nearly trembling.

He took the pack from her hands, as she was in no condition to administer it herself, and popped his chest plate off to smear the sticky stuff along the wound on his side, hissing as he did so. She hadn't found enough gel to take care of his leg, but judging by the lack of blood coming from that wound, it could hold off until they got back to the Normandy. Though it had to hurt like a bitch.

The wound along his narrow waist looked rough; his side littered with several small holes, and a multitude of abrasions. Shepard figured that whatever hit him must have exploded on impact, she swallowed past a lump in her throat as an image of him being hit in a more vital area came unbidden at the back of her eyes.

She shook herself free of those thoughts, and tried to grasp onto the here and now. The here and now where that blue-blue blood of his was staining the plates of his waist, his skin torn and distorted even with the recent application of medi-gel. The congealing liquids trailed down along the length of his body, to mingle with the wound on his leg. The whole mess an interesting contrast to the darker blue armor that he favored, and blending rather disturbingly with the stains now adorning her own cerulean N7 plating.

The varying shades of color reminded her morbidly of a postcard of a clear-blue sky from Earth she'd once gotten during basic. The sight had her mesmerized

Shepard hadn't realized that she was staring with such intensity at the wound until Garrus touched her chin with a gloved talon. The shakes that had been vibrating throughout her whole body stopped abruptly upon his touch. "Hey."

She lifted her head to lock eyes with his, and felt like her heart was going to burst. She'd never noticed before how his eyes were the same colors as his blood. "Hey, yourself."

She watched his throat work as he spoke, noticing the way the hide there bent, and moved. An idle sense-memory of what that skin felt like beneath her hands, and lips rose up, before she quickly batted it down. "I'm fine, Shepard."

"Yeah, I know." It was a lie. She didn't know that. And he wasn't. Not yet at least. He needed more than just medi-gel, and she wouldn't be able to relax until they'd cleared Reaper air-space, and Chakwas was hovering over him.

One of his mandibles fluttered out in a mischievous half-smile. "At least it wasn't a gunship this time."

She barked out a loud laugh, and had to catch herself as she swayed forward with the movement of the shuttle; bracing one hand against his foot, as she continued to kneel in front of him. When she looked back up, there was a look in his eyes that she hadn't seen in some time. His free hand, the one that had grasped her chin, came to rest on her shoulder, and she swallowed.

They stayed in that position until the Kodiak docked on the Normandy. He was going to be fine.

He had to be.

~~~\/~~~

The look that Chakwas was giving her was less sympathetic, and more 'really damn irritated.' Still, it didn't mean that Shepard was going anywhere.

"Commander, standing in my way as I'm trying to work isn't going to make anything go faster, but it is liable to cause you to get a sedative in your neck the next time you turn away."

Shepard crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows,"I'm sure drugging your commanding officer is against Alliance medical regulations."

"Lucky for me that we aren't on an Alliance vessel then." Chakwas glanced up from where she was filling a syringe with some sort of thick, clear, fluid – a slight smile on her face.

Shepard was just opening her mouth to playfully rebut the woman, glad for the momentary distraction from Garrus prone form on the cot in front of her, when his voice cut her off.

"Commander. It really isn't a big deal. I've had worse."

The raw looking muscle exposed along his side, where he'd lost a portion of one his plates told another story, but Shepard wasn't going to argue with him, if he wanted her to leave. "You sure?"

"Definitely. Go and get something to eat, before Gardner gets pissed and trashes your dinner."

As if in answer for her, her stomach grumbled. Loudly. Garrus rumbled out a laugh, and her face twitched a smile in return.

It still took her several moments, and one empty medical vile tossed in her general direction, before she could force herself to leave the room.

~~~\/~~~

When Garrus found her, she was still sitting in the mess. An empty tray in front of her (her stomach hadn't been lying about the hunger, missions always did that to her), and a half-drunk cup of room-temperature coffee held in both hands. The room had cleared out ages before, with even Gardner off to handle other duties. ("Those latrines don't clean themselves, you know!")

Garrus slide into the chair opposite her, releasing a slight hiss as he did so, and his hand going to the newly bandaged wound at his side. His civilian attire was cut along the edge to accommodate the extra material.

"Still up, Commander? Would have thought you'd have gone off to get some rest, or to at least get out of your armor by now."

She glanced down with a grimace, realizing for the first time that she hadn't changed yet, and that some of Garrus' blood was starting to flake off from where it had dried along her hip. "Yeah – guess I've been a bit distracted."

He tilted his head at her, just watching. It made her chest swell to see him sitting there – _alive_ – across from her. The hide along his neck was a bit paler than usual, but aside from that he looked the same as always. Cybernetic implant on the injured side of his face and all. "Must have been. Don't think I've ever seen you leave a cup of coffee unfinished before. In fact, I'm fairly certain you've referred to that as a 'sacrilege' once or twice."

His words made her smile. (They did that a lot.) "Well, there is the fact that we just outran an entire Reaper fleet. That might have done it."

"Hmm. Any final tally on that yet, by the way?"

Shepard shook her head. "We know that we got the one. But Legion and EDI don't want to try linking up with the modified probe we left behind yet to see how many more got hit. Something about a possible anti-viral attack that went way over my head. They say we should know by morning."

"Either way, we can check that off in the 'win' column. Be nice if we got a slew of them though. That'd be something to show the council."

"Heh, I doubt that they'd admit the Reapers existed even if they were captured and indoctrinated by one. Probably still be denying their existence, even then."

"Maybe we should try arranging that, see how it pans out. Think Harbinger would be willing to cut a deal?"

She laughed so hard, it nearly brought tears to her eyes . "God, I have no idea. But damn! That sounds like as good an idea as any."

Garrus joined in with her merry little display briefly, sucking a breath of air through his teeth as he clutched at his side.

"Oh, shit! Garrus! I'm sorry – are you all right?" She was halfway around the table and by his side before her movement had even registered. He held up a hand to her, stopping her en route, and motioning for her to sit down. She did, but this time she chose the chair next to him. The look he gave her suggested he was surprised by her choice.

"It's fine, Shepard. You just have a tendency to make me laugh when I _rrrrealy_ shouldn't."

"Hey." She poked him lightly in the arm. "You started it. Suggesting we contact Harbinger to come steal the Council. Very devilish of you."

"Very what-ish of me?"

"Devil – its...well, the opposite of Godly, I guess?"

"Hmm. Not entirely sure how I feel about the comparison."

"Its not as bad as it sounds, honest."

"If you say so, Shepard."

She nodded. "I do." Silence filtered into their conversation, during which they both just watched each other, but rather than it feeling awkward or out of place, it felt...good. Right. Comfortable. Like she hadn't felt in far too long.

With barely any thought, she reached out and grasped his hand – the one still covering his wounded side – in her own. Let her five fingers play across the warm hide that covered the back of his, before interlocking them with his three talons.

The look that Garrus gave her was curious, but not unkind. They had touched hands several times since that day in the main battery – but never like this. Never with all of their fingers woven together, with Shepard's sweaty palm unabashedly wrapped around his drier one. "Shepard?"

She took a deep breath and moved a fraction closer to him, so that their knees were now touching at an odd angle beneath the table. "How long until you're fully healed?"

He blinked. Several times. If her mind wasn't so set on keeping this conversation moving in a forward direction, she would have let the humor of the action win over her. "Uhh – Its knitting back together now. Chakwas gave me the all clear for missions – assuming that I wait two or three days. But honestly, Commander, I think a good night of rest would be plenty."

The pause she took considering his words as she rubbed her thumb along the back of his hand must have been too long, because he spoke up again. "Why? Do you have another assignment for us already?" His mandibles were drawn in tight, and he shook his head, a small laugh escaping him. "You're a slave-driver, Shepard."

"Hardly." She made sure that she had his undivided attention, that those incredibly blue eyes were looking at her and her alone before she continued. This was something that she had been teetering on the edge of saying for some time now – but hadn't felt sure of until today. "Just one night of rest?"

He nodded, one of his talons following her lead, and beginning to softly stroke along the skin between her thumb and forefinger. She felt like every nerve ending she had was connected to that spot. "Yeah. More or less."

"That's good. Do you think-" She shuddered, losing her train of thought as his warm hand continued to wreak havoc on her own. "We've got a cool four days before we make it back to civilization – assuming that everything goes well with the probe informational download tomorrow. And I was thinking...hell, Garrus. I can't think of anything while you're doing that."

There was a playful glint in his eyes, mixed with something much more primal. It made her whole body seize up just to look at. His voice was barely more than a rumble. "You started it." His hand didn't stop.

She breathed in and out, slowly, closing her eyes from him for just a moment, before charging head-on. "Tomorrow night, will you stay with me?"

Even if he didn't give her a verbal response, all the answer she needed was in the look he gave her, and in the brief pause of his talon before he resumed stroking her hand once more.

But he gave her a spoken word answer all the same, and she had never felt so simultaneously relieved and nervous in all her life.

And maybe more than just a tad exhilarated, if her racing heart had anything to say about it.

~~~\/~~~

The first time that Shepard had slept with Garrus, she hadn't been paying a whole lot of attention. Not really. She had the vague, almost dream-like memory of how over-heated his skin felt against hers. How sensitive the hide along his waist was to her touch, or how he'd rumbled in his chest when she would stroke her hand along his fringe. She knew that he liked the feeling of her hair, liked to run his talons through it, and scrap at her scalp. She liked that to.

She knew that they fit together. There were anatomical differences, sure – but the basics were all the same; and that was comforting.

She hadn't actually seen him fully naked either, things had been too frantic, to emotionally charged for her to take note of any of that. Not too mention, the whole situation had been less than ideal for any number of reasons.

Chafing, and being emotionally unavailable being just some of them.

But this time, she'd done her homework. And it had only left her frustrated and desperate for him. Left her wanting to have the chance to take it slow with him. To peel the layers of clothes off of him, and reveal his plates and skin to her touch. To learn the contours that made up his body, and taste his sweat again. (She remembered enjoying the slightly metallic taste of him, and the tingly feeling on her lips – which she now knew was probably a mild allergic reaction. But she really didn't care, and she wanted to try it again.) Wanted to feel him drag that rough tongue across her body, to caress her, and slide inside of her once more. Wanted to be more cognizant of how her legs could hook on his hips, and use that to her advantage. Wanted to keep her eyes open when he came.

She wanted it with such intensity, that she thought she might go insane.

She hadn't been one hundred percent certain that it was going to happen again. They'd been very careful to avoid those kind of declarations up until this point. Had, in point of fact, kept their hands almost entirely to themselves. (With the hand-holding at the table the night prior being the most intimate gesture they had exchanged since that fateful day months ago.) But after what had gone down with the Reaper, she was damn well not willing to put off until tomorrow what they both wanted today. Not any longer.

Especially not when death seemed to always be looming on the horizon for all of them.

Now, she knew that she wanted this. All of this. All of him. Some would say it was still too soon. That she was still feeling grief over the loss of Thane. And while that was true, she knew that she likely didn't have the luxury of a long life. Not with the chances that they were always taking.

"_Forever is a long time, Siha_." She felt her throat close up as the thought drifted in her mind. She missed him. She still loved him. That wasn't going away. But he was right. He'd known better than her back then. And – when push came to shove, and Garrus had been injured? Thoughts of Thane never once entered her mind – she'd been far too consumed with fear for Garrus, that she hadn't had time to dwell on her lost lover. Hadn't even realized that she had even stopped until later, when she knew that Garrus was fine.

It was that realization, that she had well and truly moved past that loss, and into some place else entirely, that had allowed her to make the decision.

_She wanted Garrus_. She _cared about _Garrus. So much that it scared the hell out of her. Made her weak in the knees when he'd let his eyes linger over-long; or when she'd hear that rumbling laugh reach her from across the mess-hall table. Made the stress and worries of the day slip away when they'd settle in for one crappy vid after another – mocking them the whole time. Gave her peace of mind when they'd discuss tactics over the comm-room table, and he always seemed to know just what direction she needed to be pushed in to make the call. Gave her hope, when everything seemed dire, and he could still make her smile.

She wasn't certain if it was love yet, it was different than what she'd felt for Thane, to be sure. Thane had been this consuming passion that caught her completely off guard. She'd barely known him, before she'd loved him. And that feeling hadn't dimmed, hadn't changed. Not really.

But Garrus...Garrus was something else. Separate from those emotions. He was a slow-built fire. A planetary sun. Something steady, and warm, but still so bright that it could blind you if you looked right at it. Her friend. Her _best_ friend. And something so much more. When she thought of him now, that familiar and scary flutter would happen in her stomach. It was a feeling she wanted to hold onto tightly, with both hands. She didn't know yet if it was all going to work, but damn it! She wanted to try.

The entry-bell for her door rang, and she felt her heart skip a beat as she went to answer - preferring to open the doors herself, rather than letting the ship take care of it.

"Hey, I brought wine." He gestured with the bottle, shaking it a bit. Mandibles flared wide in a hopeful expression.

Her heart thudded back to life in her chest. She smiled, and gestured to let him in. They could make this work. Definitely.

* * *

~~~\/~~~

* * *

It was strange. Garrus could run head long into just about anything the universe threw at him without flinching. It wasn't a matter of being fearless – just confident. He's logged an impressive amount of hours behind his sniper, and always made sure to triple and quadruple check all systems during downtime; so that he would never really feel like he was caught off-guard, no matter the situation.

It was a confidence born of experience and preparation, not ego. But standing inside Shepard's cabin, talons empty after she took the bottle of wine from him (a special blend; synthetic, but safe for them both to drink, and supposedly quite sweet) he had to suppress the urge to lower his head and scamper out through the door in retreat.

He was nervous. And it was a decidedly foreign feeling.

The nervous emotion was made even odder by the fact that he'd been here before. Done exactly what the two of them planned to do before._With her_. Only now, he was invited. You'd think that having the assurance that it _was him_ that she wanted this time, and not somebody else, would have made this all easier – a bit more smooth.

But it did just the opposite.

He wanted this to go right with such _intensity_ that it made it hard to breath. And when she looked at him, those alien eyes that shouldn't have been able to draw him in the way that they did, bright and shining; he felt like a recruit again. Bumbling around the co-ed facilities of the turian military camps and trying desperately not to stare.

The bottle that she took from him found its way to the table near the couch – rather than into any glasses. Shepard smiled wide, her teeth visible. She looked...happy. "What do you say we save that for later? I think I want a clear head right now."

He chuckled, some of his nerves easing even while parts of his body tensed up in anticipation. "Really? I was thinking a bottle or two might be a good way to start."

She lifted an eyebrow, and crossed her arms in response. The motion drew his attention to that area of her anatomy, more specifically, to the way it pressed her breasts together.

"Trying to get me drunk, Garrus? You know..." Her arms dropped, and his head snapped back to her face as she closed the distance between them. He held his breath as one of her palms – with its inexplicably soft skin – stroked down the injured side of his face. The tension that had been building earlier was tightened by her touch. "I'm kind of a sure thing."

Her smile was slow; perfect, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, I'd hoped that would be the case, but figured I ought to be prepared for the worst-case scenario."

"And the worse-case scenario ends in getting me drunk?"

"Ah – no. That ends in getting _me_ drunk. Likely alone. Down in the cargo bay. Using Gardner's old supplies as target practice. Think a couple of those crates might have grown legs by now. Makes it more of a challenge."

Her laugh was loud, and immediate. He loved the sound, and his whole body puffed up in joy. "Damn, Garrus! Really thought this through, haven't you?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, well, you know me. Always keep my gun well-oiled, just in case."

This time when she laughed, she nearly doubled over, hand clasped at her abdomen, and her breathing erratic. He took a minute to think over his last statement, and fluttered his mandibles in embarrassment. "That came out wrong."

She guffawed again, and slapped her hand to her mouth. When he asked what was wrong that time, she just shook her head. After several moments that stretched out nearly to the edge of space, the purple and red color in her cheeks faded some.

When she lowered her hand and slowly dragged it down his arm, he thought that all of his nerve endings had migrated over to that limb, so acute was the sensation sparked by her touch. "Garrus, I think its time we stop talking, or I might puncture a lung laughing too hard."

He opened his mouth to respond, but she used the motion to her advantage and leaned up on her toes – the way that she had done once before; but the movement slower, more precise. Her eyes were open, and locked with his.

The act of kissing was no less strange the second time around. He could do little more than return the pressure. She took her time though, exploring his upper, and then lower lip with her soft, pink tongue. Eventually, his own tongue joined hers as he tried to get the rhythm of the odd indulgence. Shepard made a humming sound in the back of her throat, and he thought that maybe he'd done something right. Judging by the increased tempo of her mouth, and the way that her arms snaked around his cowl to grip the back of his neck, he wasn't wrong.

When she broke from him with a little gasp, he lowered his forehead to hers. His talons twitched at the base of her spine, wanting to shred the cloth that kept her skin separated from his touch. "Shepard..."

"Jane." Her voice was low, breathless, and sent his blood rushing in a decidedly southern direction. He felt his plates start to shift, accommodating his growing need.

"What?"

She closed her eyes, and sucked in a breath. "Before, you called me – in here...can I just be Jane?"

He nodded, and wondered if she still didn't realize that there was nothing he wouldn't do for her. Even something as simple as calling her by her first name. "I think I can manage that..."He angled his head lower, and nuzzled the soft skin behind her ear, his tongue darting out involuntarily to taste the sweet sweat that had pooled there. "Jane."

"Mmm, good." And whether that was a response to his slow exploration of her neck, or the whisper of her name, he really couldn't say.

And he wasn't sure that it even mattered. At least, not when she started working on the fastenings of his ship-suit.

~~~\/~~~

They took it slow this time – at least, at first. Shepard made a show of removing each article of his clothing. She took her time when his waist was revealed, caressing the practically healed tissue along the wound he had sustained on the Reaper ship.

She pushed him forward gently, forcing him to walk backwards towards the bed, and settle into its firmness, so that she could tackle the buckles that latched his pants around his hips, and spurs. He braced himself on his elbows so that he could watch her as she crawled up his form – still mostly clothed. Any hope he'd had of keeping his eyes fully focused on her, however, was lost when she drug her short nails up the length of his legs, scratching slightly behind the plates by his knee, and along his thigh.

His hips bucked up, and a growl broke out of his throat when she tickled the area just south of where his arousal was making itself incessantly known. Each scratch of her nails was soothed by a gentle stroke, then a soft – nearly chaste kiss. The sensations left him feeling dizzy by the time she traced the tip of his erection with her tongue, and if he hadn't already been lying down, he was sure he would have fallen over.

Her hand languidly stroked him as she teased him with her mouth. "Hmm, what was that you were saying about guns and oil."

He couldn't have answered her if he tried. Not when she dove back in with renewed vigor. His hands – which he hadn't realized were gripping into her mattress with enough strength to have torn holes – reached out to snag her by the shoulders and pull her up to him – if she continued like that... he shivered at the thought.

"Too – many – clothes." She laughed as he tore inelegantly at the Spirit-forsaken zipper hiding her upper body from him. He doubted that she'd be able to wear it again, but _damn it_ he didn't care. Not when that silky-smooth skin was bared to his greedy eyes. Not when he could finally follow the path of her neck with his tongue; down along her chest, to swirl around the little peaks at the center of her breast. (The skin there was thicker, warmed by her body's response to him, and it caused the haze of lust that had already settled over him to thicken until he could see – feel – hear – taste – nothing but her.) Not when she made the most delicious noises as he turned her beneath him, and divested her of her pants, and undergarments. Not when the heat of her body pressed against him was driving him beyond all sense.

He explored her, like she had done him. Found that she giggled – _giggled –_ a sound he never would have associated with her before, when he lightly scratched his talons along her hip, and into the dip where her thigh met her rear. Discovered that the firm feeling of her muscles beneath supple skin was not as alien as he might have once thought. Different yes, but still similar in so many ways. Similar in how she could wrap one leg around him, and pull him closer. Different in how wide he could press them open as he settled between them – let her body cradle his.

While Garrus couldn't bring himself to regret what happened between them months before – it had played too big a role in everything that had happened since – he wanted something less bitter than that had been. Something just for the two of them. No ghosts lying in the middle. He hoped that this time..."Jane?"

She bit her lip and slid her legs down his hips, to rest along his thighs, and sighed. The tiniest of nods, and a lightness in her gaze. "Garrus..."

When he slid into her warmth – felt the way that her muscles encased him, plied him, pulled at him – brought him to the edge with every buck, twist, thrust of her hips – he knew with one hundred percent certainty that there was no where else he'd ever want to be.

Soon, sweet gave way to desperation; a clawing need. As each of them pushed the other harder, further. Her hands dug into the soft skin of his neck, while she alternated sucking and biting along his mouth and mandibles; twirling her tongue around the edge, and dragging it upwards. If she hadn't known how sensitive the area was before, she most certainly did now. It was simply not possible to hide his gasp, or the way that he jerked his hips as she did so.

One of his hands found its home in that space beneath her buttocks, while the other reached down; down to grasp behind her knee and pull it up his side. Allowing the angle of his thrusts to change. Something she wholeheartedly approved of, if the long moan she released as he did so was any indication. He kept her pressed to the bed like that for thrust after thrust, until little beads of moisture were leaking from her eyes, and her head was shaking back and forth, even while his name fell from her lips in a little chant.

Sooner than he would have liked, he began to lose his pace – the sight – feel – sound - of her beneath him, too much. His forehead found hers again, in a position as intimate to him as the pressing together of mouths seemed to be to her. He watched, as pleasure seemed to burst from her, and she met his gaze. The affection in her eyes, entirely for him, was the last thing he was conscious of before he exploded – all of the air stolen from his lungs with one last twist of her hips.

He buried his face in her neck, and took several deep breaths – the scent of her enveloping him. It was a heady feeling. Before he could work his tongue around saying anything he felt his heart seize up – she was shaking – would she...?

"Jane?" He did his best to keep his voice even, though it took a sizable amount of effort.

Her hands moved from the back of his neck, to the sides of his face, and she lifted his head back into line with hers. He couldn't open his eyes. "Garrus – look at me. _Please_?"

It was her soft plea that did him in. When he saw her – he was so glad that he gave in. Her cheeks were flushed; pink, and warm. Her eyes were shining, but not with tears – and her mouth...her mouth had a soft, kind smile gracing it – and the lips were deliciously plump looking. Swollen by their activities. Any words that he could have used to describe her in that moment completely left him. He only knew that it was a look that he had never seen directed at him before.

"I'm – no, _we're_ fine. Perfect even."

He ran his talons along the hair on her head, playing with the strands as he focused on her. Enjoying the way that her neck arched and she let out a little mewl of satisfaction. His voice was raspy when he spoke. "You're sure?"

She looked thoughtful, but not distraught. Which alleviated his fears like nothing else. "_Weeell_...I could really use a drink right about now. Throat's a bit parched. Any idea where I could find some good wine?"

He flared his mandibles in as wide a grin as his scarred cheek would allow. "I don't know about _good_, but it **was **the best a vigilante could buy."

One of her hands stroked down the side of his face, and then up into his fringe, lightly caressing each individual one, and causing a shot of desire to race through his body once again. He could feel his arousal returning once more.

She gave him a wide, toothy grin, the pink in her cheeks making her look younger than he'd ever seen her before. "Mmm, sounds like my kind of a treat. Vigilante wine. Be sure and thank the guy who picked it out for me. Must know me pretty well."

He couldn't help but laugh, and bury his head to nuzzle along the side of her throat once more – delighting in the gasp that it caused. Yeah. Everything was going to be just fine.

~ End


End file.
